


strange phenomenon

by brawlite, kyluxtrashcompactor



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mention of Drug Abuse, a mild impression of fluff interjected abruptly by paranormal events, annnnd apparently a gratuitous amount of bed sharing, but no one dies in this fic we promise, hux gets more than he bargained for with a roommate, millicent is adorable as always, rated E for Eventually because apparently this became a slow burn?, sexual tension because that's what these two are made out of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8270201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlite/pseuds/brawlite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor
Summary: Kylo Ren is haunted by recent tragedy. He answers an ad posted by one Armitage Hux for a roommate, and he thinks a fresh start will help him begin to heal. He brings next to nothing with him from the past when he moves in. Or so he thinks.





	1. Chapter 1

Kylo wakes up on the floor. 

He blinks at the unfamiliar ceiling, popcorn coated and drab grey in the half-light of … some hour. Dawn, evening - he isn’t sure which, or even what day of the week it is. He feels muddled, head stuffed full with sopping cotton, eyelids sticky and mouth dry, and he can’t feel his left foot. 

There is a brief struggle with stiff muscles as Kylo levers himself up onto his elbows, squinting at his surroundings. The stripped-wood floor beneath him is littered with paraphernalia, disparate and somber, like offerings to the dead. They are pieces of a puzzle, sliding into place in his fractured memory, shaping the picture of where he is and why he is here. 

There’s a Colt 45, half empty, and a pack of Lucky Strikes crumpled from being thrust into his back pocket. One cigarette has escaped from the pack and lies bent and shedding tobacco. Dimly, he recalls a stop at the Super Eight, and having to count out nickels and pennies for a clerk with a put-upon scowl and a Black Sabbath t-shirt. 

There’s a glass pipe and a lighter, and a stale smell in the air, and he remembers Poe opening a door and laughing, and the sound of someone playing a guitar, and then warm light and people talking. He can hear those questions now, thudding between his ears and making his stomach heave as he sits up.  _ How are you, Ben? Have you seen your mom lately? Do you need to talk? _

He didn’t need to talk. That’s why he’d ended up in the bathroom later smashing a Percocet on the counter with his tapped-out Mastercard, using his last dollar bill to inhale a little bit of comfortable numbness. There’s a bitter film on his lips, and they’re chapped.

A set of car keys is lying by his ankle where his jeans disappear into worn Doc Martens. That’s curious, because he hadn’t driven since … that night. He palms them, blinking, and runs a thumb over the little pewter relief of the Millennium Falcon. 

_ Fuck _ . These are his dad’s old keys.  

Kylo’s arm tenses to hurl them across the room in a mix of disgust and bone-deep grief, but curls his fingers around them instead, letting the metal bite into flesh. His face is hot, his eyes prickling like needles on sandpaper, and there isn’t enough grace due him for tears to come. He doesn’t deserve to cry. Doesn’t deserve that exorcism of pain. 

Gradually, the haze recedes, and he recognizes the room he is in. It’s the old guest bedroom at Poe’s house, and it’s existentially suitable. Poe was remodeling, and this room was at the moment just bare bones, with exposed wiring and no insulation. 

Kylo picks himself up, nearly stumbles because his foot is asleep, then doubles over and tries not to vomit. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to ignore the way the world is spinning in the wrong direction, and that’s when he remembers why he has the car keys in his hand.

He’s been couch hopping, or waking up on floors, ever since the accident. His mother hadn’t exactly kicked him out, but the tension and the unsaid things had grown claws and Kylo had run from them. It had been over six months since he’d spoken to Leia. 

Until last night. 

That encounter played itself back in his mind - a flickering film reel obscured with lines and dark spots. He’d wanted to borrow Han’s car, the old silver Pontiac Trans Am, though whether from actual absence of better options or masochism, he’s not sure. Kylo had gone over when he thought Leia would be at work, and let himself into the garage with his code, but hadn’t made it past the car cover before Leia had come through the side door. 

It would have been easier if she’d been angry, and said something hurtful - if she’d just been another voice blending in with the damnable self-deprecating choir in his head. Instead she asked him  _ the questions. _

_ Where have you been? Don’t you know how much I need you? Are you ok, Ben?  _

No. He is not ok. 

He might never be ok again. 

Kylo unfolds from his hunched over position, drawing up to stand with slumped shoulders, tugging his worn flannel tightly over his chest. He lurches through the skeletal doorway, shoving aside the plastic construction sheeting, and makes his way through the kitchen. It’s blessedly quiet; Poe’s get-togethers always spiral into the early hours and the dead do not rise until after noon. 

Spilling out into the gray October dawn, he doesn’t think too deeply about the car. It’s just a way to get from one point to the other, he tells himself. He needs that today, because he’s found a room to rent on the outskirts of the city, away from the sirens and the traffic and the parties and the drugs and the  _ questions _ . He’ll have a roommate that doesn’t know him, and won’t look at him and wonder what he’s thinking or how he feels. 

Jamming the key into the ignition, Kylo pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his jeans’ pocket. Unfolding it, he glances again at the advertisement he’d printed the day before:

_ Bedroom for rent in 3 bedroom house with shared common space. Safe, clean, quiet. Allergy alert: 1 cat. Applicants must be tidy, quiet, and respectful. $650/mo _

He starts the car, backs down the driveway, and speeds south toward the freeway.

* * *

 

It isn’t necessarily that Hux absolutely requires a housemate. He is doing perfectly adequately financially, thank you. And he’s just fine on the social front, as well: he gets out of the house at least twice a week to see Phasma -- on Tuesdays and on Saturdays. He’s all-around doing just peachy in his life, even if he hasn’t quite figured out how to consistently make meals for just one person, yet. The decision to take on a tenant boils down to simple facts, really. And none of those facts involve Hux  _ needing _ a housemate. It would just make life easier for him, that’s all.

First off, while he is doing just fine financially, he would be pulling in at least half a grand extra each month if he were to take on a tenant. He could either put that directly into a savings account for a rainy day (the account he specifically hasn’t paid much attention to for the last couple of months) -- or he could put it towards all the utilities and come in at the end of each month feeling a little richer, a little more flush. He knows that, when push comes to shove, he’ll deposit it directly into the neglected savings account, and it will be like the money never touched him -- it’s the  _ responsible _ thing to do, after all. It’s how his parents lived -- always saving, never spending. It’s why Hux has inherited accounts stockpiled for  _ Retirement _ that are frustratingly hard to touch, and why he always ends up feeling a little worn thin financially some months.

It’s not that he’s not doing well -- it’s just that his assets are hard to reach. Brendol Hux, his late father, had made certain they would only be available for the most dire of emergencies, or for his son’s retirement.  

Secondly, the decision to acquire a housemate would most likely do Hux well on the social front. Now, he doesn’t expect to be finding a friend in the midst of all of this, but he  _ does _ expect that he will find someone he can at least be cordial towards. And, if he utters more than a couple words to another person every day or so, outside of a work environment, he can check that box off his list and stop feeling so antisocial. Sure, he texts Phasma every day, and sees her twice a week -- but other than that, he doesn’t get out much. He goes to the self-check-outs at the grocery store and avoids other interaction at all costs. If he’s being truly honest, he’s starting to feel a little secluded from the world at large.

His profession doesn’t help. As a CPA specializing in tax law, he has minimal interaction with other people outside interrogating them about their finances. His work doesn’t particularly endear him to other people, and the typical course of conversation doesn’t lend itself to small talk.

Thirdly, and entirely absurdly, another person would make the house feel a little more lived in. Hux had inherited the three-bedroom house when his father had passed away. The late Brendol Hux had lived there for twenty years after his wife had succumbed to terminal cancer, and had rattled away in it, alone for most of the time.

Now, the house is Hux’s -- and it’s far too empty and vacant for just himself and his cat, Millicent

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly -- if he were to have a housemate, his cat, a fluffy and needy tabby, would have someone else to keep her company. And then, negligent cat-parent that he is, Hux would feel a little less bad when he didn’t agree to play with her every second of the day. 

The option of having a housemate is really all for the best.

* * *

 

Hux is having breakfast with the sunrise when his phone chimes with an alert:  _ 1 New Message _ . It’s not often that he receives texts from anyone but Phasma -- who is also coincidentally never awake before ten in the morning.  For a moment, he is puzzled -- then, he remembers the ad he placed in the paper the day previous. 

He tries to quell the excitement that immediately simmers up from his gut -- this isn’t an online dating site, it isn’t prom: there is no reason to be excited at the prospect of someone replying to his wanted ad. Most likely, it’s either a scammer replying, or someone absolutely horrendous. He’ll probably have to filter through hundreds of replies before he finds someone even remotely worthwhile.

Regardless, he opens up the message:

_ Saw your ad about a room. I’m looking for a place. Cats are ok. _

Hux replies with an even,

_ Sounds agreeable. Thank you for contacting me. _

_ Please drop by sometime tomorrow and I would be happy to show you the room, as well as the house. _

And sets his phone down on the counter.

Well. That was certainly easier than expected.

* * *

When the front door chimes, Hux is not necessarily ready for it. Has eaten, showered, and changed, and already done a considerable amount of work for the time -- but then again, mostly working from home has always suited him. There is an office building a little closer into town that he shares with a few other licensed CPA’s. His office there is small, but he only ever uses it to meet with clients and discuss tactics or potential problems. When he can, when he has considerable work to do with few personal interruptions, he works from home. That way, he can spread out and tune out the world.

Honestly, he had forgotten he had someone coming by to look at the spare room.

Luckily, Hux keeps a tidy home, and the room is practically untouched -- other than occasionally dusted. There’s nothing he needs to straighten before he opens up his door. 

A quick glance through the door viewer shows him a tall man looking a little scraggly, clad mostly in black, with dark hair, standing on his step waiting for him. The image is foggy, but he seems to look like someone who is interested in renting a room -- if that even has a particular look to it, at all. Hux isn’t in a position to judge: he just wants a housemate.

Hux opens the door, perfectly willing to treat this potential viewer like he is the one to get the room. “Hello. I presume you are here to inquire after the room?”

The man on his doorstep puts a hand to his forehead in an awkward salute, shading his red-rimmed eyes from the morning sun and squinting at Hux. He looks like he doesn't get out much, with pale skin and a dubious expression as though he doesn't quite know what to think of his fellow man. There is a pinkish red scar bisecting the right side of his face, outlined by the telltale tracks of stitches. 

"Yeah," is his gravelly response. "I texted you yesterday. It still available?"

Hux nods, “It is. You’re the first person to inquire after it.” Hux hadn’t been too worried -- the town doesn’t have a necessarily vibrant real estate market. And god even knows about the rental market. Hux assumed he’d be sorting out people over months, not that he’d get a bite so quickly. 

Hux steps back, gesturing inside the entryway of the house, “Why don’t you come in?”

Kylo takes the cue, stepping across the threshold. To his right, there is an arched entryway that leads into the kitchen, which at this moment is illuminated rather too brightly by autumn sunlight. He smells strong coffee, and his stomach growls, which is immediately embarrassing.

There is a neat row of multi-purpose shoes just inside the door, and he is inspired by a bit of his mother’s tutelage in manners to inquire whether he should remove his own before venturing further. When the man nods, Kylo stoops to untangle the knots and tug the boots off, shoving them to the side, and then stands again, hoping his potential landlord doesn’t notice the way his big toe is poking out of an egregiously large hole in his black sock.

Before Hux can stop himself, he nods to the kitchen, tucked in to the side. One of his favorite rooms, with its morning light and breezy ambiance. “Would you like a cup of coffee while we make the grand tour?” He cannot pretend he didn’t hear the man’s stomach growling, not in the pristine quiet of the house. The least Hux can do is offer this man some coffee.

Before he can make his way into the kitchen, he frowns and stops short. Just how long has it been since he’s interacted with strangers that weren’t professional clients? “I’m sorry, I forgot myself there for a moment. Armitage Hux,” He sticks out a hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Kylo takes the proffered hand, which is slender and fine boned and fits well in his, with the kind of strong grip Kylo appreciates. He's suddenly self-conscious, for Hux is dressed smartly in maroon chinos and a button-down, finely-checked in blue and white. His red hair is neatly combed, and he smells faintly of some pleasant sandalwood cologne. Kylo's efforts at personal grooming that morning had included finger-combing his own overlong mane into a sloppy half-bun and sucking on a peppermint he'd found in the center console.

"Kylo Ren," he says, and hopes to circumvent the usual  _ what kind of name is that  _ line by adding: "I would love a cup of coffee. Thank you." 

“Kylo Ren,” he repeats for his own memory “please call me Hux.” There’s something about this man -- Hux isn’t sure if it’s the absolute disaster of a front he puts on, those soulfully dark eyes, or those giant hands that had so easily held Hux’s -- but he is already a little taken. In the most superficial way, of course -- he would never let it cloud his judgement when it came to appraising a housemate. 

“This way,” he says, and leads them into the kitchen. It’s a pristine white space, with beautiful marble countertops and modern cabinets. Hux’s father had had it redone a year previous to his death, and therefore had been unable to appreciate the space fully. Hux gives it the love it needs -- spending most of his days at the beautiful mahogany table, which is currently covered in his work. “Please excuse the mess. If you were to live here, I would contain my work to the study.” It would only be fair.

Hux busies himself with making Kylo Ren a cup of coffee. He lazily pours from the pot he had made earlier and then reheats it in the microwave. A whole new pot of coffee seems a bit like overkill. “Here you go,” Hux hands the plain white mug over and gestures at the kitchen. “I suppose we can start the tour here.”

Kylo doesn’t want to tell him that a tour isn’t really necessary, as he’s prepared to settle for practically anything at this point. This place, so far, is perfect: it’s miles outside of town, on a quiet street, and it’s in his meager price range. When he does go to work, tending bar at the local Applebee’s, he doesn’t earn the caliber of tips that he once did. The fact that he hardly smiles anymore and has no patience for the banal drivel of his clientele probably figures into that.  

Accepting the coffee, Ren takes a cautious sip while glancing about the room. One kitchen is the same as another to him; he can not be trusted to boil water successfully, and lives off Chinese take-out and cheap pizza, when he bothers to eat at all. 

He extends two fingers and half-turns one of the various pages on the table, peering down at figures and notations that are little more than a foreign language to him. Hux must be bright, to glean some meaning from it. 

"This is your work?" he asks, finding that he's more curious about Hux than the house.

Hux has to stop himself from tensing up entirely as he watches this stranger paw through his work -- not that he’s pawing -- he’s just looking. But it’s been so long since Hux has shared his space with anyone, it feels about the same. “Please don’t touch,” he can hear the bristle in his own voice, the way he wants to bat Kylo’s hand away. But he doesn’t -- he just gestures for Kylo to follow him into the other room. “It is. It’s just taxes,” he explains. “This is the living room. As it would be a shared space, you are welcome to its use on a first-come first-serve basis. However, if you wish to have a multitude of friends over in a common area, I would prefer if you clear it with me, first.” That seems only fair.

“There is a basement through that door over there,” Hux gestures at a plain white door in a non-descript wall. “You would be welcome to use it for storage.”

Perhaps he is going about this wrong, though. Kylo seems fine with the living situation, given his posture and his preoccupation with the small things around the house. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” That’s the sort of thing people wish to know about potential housemates -- right?

Kylo clutches his cup of coffee against his chest with both hands, as though the ceramic mug might shield him from such an invasive question. Only it’s not really invasive -- it’s normal, and he should have expected it, rather than assume he’d just pay a deposit and get a key. He searches for something to say, some innocuous fact that doesn’t really offer any insight into the past he is trying to escape. It is a struggle, for it seems like those fractured, awful memories are what define him now.

Hux is gazing at him expectantly, and Kylo notices that his eyes are a very engaging shade of blue-green, and that his lashes are almost ethereal in the sunlight streaming through the window. One of the many, actually: this house seems to have an obnoxious number of windows. 

“Um...I’m twenty-nine. I tend bar at night so I sometimes would get home late. I don’t really have a lot of friends.” The latter is true, but hasn’t always been; he’d steadily pushed them away. “I like long walks on the beach at sunset.” Kylo offers Hux a small, disarming smile, which makes his face feel too tight. 

Hux nods. There’s nothing that seems overtly terrible or off-putting about Kylo Ren: he simply seems like a man who is a bit down on his luck. It helps that he is a little too attractive for his own good -- or rather, that he is just Hux’s type. It doesn’t help at all,  _ especially _ when he smiles. Sure, it looks fake, stretched a little thing, and there’s that prominent scar -- but the potential is there. Big, pearly white teeth. The smile, even forced, brings a light to Kylo’s eyes that is truly impressive. It may be fake, but Hux can see the potential there -- he cannot stop himself.

“Let me show you what would be your room,” Hux manages, trying to forget the oppressive desire to see a real smile out of a man he literally  _ just _ met.

Before checking to see if Kylo is following him, Hux leads the way up the stairs and opens the door to the first room on the right. “This would be yours.” He gestures to the largest room at the end of the hallway on the left. “That’s mine. And the one across from it is a study, or a guest room if needed.”

Kylo leans in through the open doorway, for some reason feeling like he shouldn’t cross into the room just yet. It’s spotless, like most of the house, with crisp, unadorned white walls and a serene view overlooking the well-manicured lawn and the knot of vibrant autumn trees abutting the property. There is a full sized bed with a powder-blue comforter, an antique nightstand, and a single lamp. It’s minimalistic, but doesn’t seem clinical, like there is some warmth infused in the selection of the pleasantly mismatched pillows and the sheer curtains.

He shrinks back into the hallway, glancing at Hux. They are less than twelve inches from each other, and Kylo is intensely distracted by the pallor of his skin, the freckles on his accentuated collarbone, and the way his hair looks so soft. 

“It’s, um… nice.” There was a time when he was more verbose, but he is wandering through a fog now, just grasping at real interactions. He’s tired, and just wants repose.

It is nice. The whole house is  _ nice _ . But nice doesn’t make a home, and it certainly doesn’t make a place feel lived in or welcoming, at the end of the day. As it is, the only part of the house that Hux  _ truly  _ enjoys is the kitchen. And perhaps his bedroom. But even in the few minutes that Kylo has been in here, the place has felt more  _ alive _ . It’s truly magnificent -- and also a bit mysterious. It is  _ certainly _ no reason for Hux to open up his mouth to say, ill-advisedly, “The room’s yours, if you want it.”

Stupid, stupid! Hux curses himself, looking a little taken back by his own carelessness. The room shouldn’t be Kylo’s -- it should be a lawyer’s, or a doctor’s. Not a sometimes-bartender who looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair in months. But Hux has always been a sucker, at least a little bit, for a pretty face. It’s a pity that Kylo is just his type. Hux  _ knows _ better than to live with someone he finds attractive. 

“Six-fifty up front as a deposit. If you do anything I find egregious, I will give you a warning. One warning -- and then you will be asked to leave. Consequently, I would appreciate a month’s notice if you choose to move out. I can write up a contract today, which you can sign whenever you wish to move in. What is the time frame you’re looking at?”

Kylo stares, lips parted, several responses warring to be voiced. He’d expected at least to be asked for a rental history, perhaps a credit check (thank god that was not forthcoming), and possibly a reference or two. There is something intense and earnest in Hux’s expression with the way he worries at his bottom lip with his teeth and raises both eyebrows. Kylo is loathe to believe this organized, well put-together man is desperate, or could not have his choice of tenants. 

He isn’t about to question his good fortune, however. 

“I can move in whenever is convenient,” he says, and there’s an unintentional undercurrent of hope in his voice. He’d like Hux to offer him the room for tonight, so he doesn’t wake up cold and stiff on a floor somewhere tomorrow morning. “I could have the cash this afternoon.” 

It’s so soon. Too soon. 

\-- But Hux finds himself nodding anyway. There’s just something about this man that makes Hux want to help, for whatever reason. Kylo just seems down on his luck -- maybe if he had a place to stay, he’d be able to pull himself out of whatever rut he looks like he’s in. 

But Hux has never been a good samaritan. It feels a little wrong, makes his skin feel a little too tight, but he can’t go back on it now. Not with the hope ringing pleasantly in Kylo’s voice, the light shining in his eyes. No -- Hux will have to live with his terrible impulses to help this stranger, however attractive he is. 

“As long as you have the deposit in, the room is yours.” He swallows, “So, this afternoon at the earliest.”

Hux gestures at the furniture in the room, “If you don’t want any of that, it can be moved to the basement for storage.” Taking one look at Kylo, and his ridiculous arms, Hux decides it’s up to Kylo to move them downstairs -- he certainly looks strong enough. “I assume that won’t be a problem for you?”

Kylo glances again at the bed with its neat hospital corners, and imagines having to make a trip to his mother’s house to collect his meager furniture, which is stored in his old room. At one point, he’d played the role of responsible adult and lived in a modest two bedroom walk-up with Rey on the north side of town. He’d even started taking a few classes for the degree in art that had always been his secret pipe-dream. Everything had come apart at the seams after the accident, however, and the only responsible thing he’d done was drop out of his classes before he failed them. 

Rey had been forced to find someone to take over his part of the lease while he was in the wind, and she and Poe had moved his things out for him. Kylo still remembers the pained expression on Rey’s face when he’d turned up at the front door with a key that didn’t work, and she’d had to explain to him that what seemed like a dazed couple of weeks to Kylo was actually a stretch of three long months in which he’d been nothing more but an occasional sighting by the people that cared about him. 

If he really wants to be blunt with himself, Kylo is, for all practical purposes, homeless. The idea of a fresh start is profoundly appealing, and he doesn’t want to drag any detritus behind him from his previous life. Not even furniture. 

He looks again at Hux, and finds himself awash with a measure of gratitude that is unexpected, as though it is Hux himself offering his hand while Kylo is trying to crawl out of this open grave he’s descended into. He stares into those vivid green eyes for a handful of seconds that makes them blink and dart away for a moment toward the bedroom, considering perhaps what thing Kylo has found wrong with his options. 

“I’ll keep things how they are, if that’s ok,” Kylo tells him, fitting another smile onto his lips.

Hux nods, trying very hard not to pay much attention to Kylo’s smiling face. He looks  _ nice _ when he smiles, a little more relaxed and far more handsome, and it’s all too off-putting for Hux’s well-being. 

“Perfect. Once I have the cash in hand and you have signed the contract, you are welcome to move your belongings in.” 

It’s so soon. But it’s honestly the first exciting thing to happen to Hux since bringing Millicent home three years ago. 

Hux hadn’t planned on working on the contract today, but it looks like it’s becoming a pressing matter. No problem -- his current work can be set aside for a few hours, if not a day. There’s nothing all that demanding about his current setup of clients. He can spare some time.

“The cat is around, somewhere. She doesn’t like strangers, but please make sure you don’t let her outside when you’re coming and going. She likes making the occasional bolt for the door.” Hux turns and begins meandering down toward the stairs, motioning for Kylo to follow him. “I’m afraid I will need to begin working on the contract momentarily.” He wants a chance to be able to look it over a couple times before it’s ready to be signed.

Kylo follows him, appreciating without meaning to the way Hux sways down the stairs and the way his pants seem to fit just so from this angle. It’s been a long time since he’s had enough presence of mind to notice anything of that nature, and he experiences a moment of regret that he can’t revel overmuch in the fact. This is his potential - no, his new - roommate, and who knows what his proclivities are, so it’s dangerous territory all around. 

They spill into the kitchen again, and Hux takes up the chair in front of the laptop. Swiping a finger across the mousepad, he wakes the device and then takes a sip of the coffee he’d left lying on the table. It’s clearly cold, and Hux wrinkles his nose in a way that has Kylo biting his bottom lip against a grin. 

“So, is this for month to month?” Kylo asks, focusing his attention on something more droll. “Or a year?” 

“Yes,” Hux nods, “I’d prefer to be paid the rent on the first of every month.” The coffee is far too cold but he feels obligated to drink it now, despite the fact that he could easily warm it up. He doesn’t necessarily want to admit to defeat in front of Kylo -- which is a moderately concerning thing already. Hux will get used to him, the instant attraction will fade, and then they will be acquaintances -- it’ll be fine. 

He continues, “Given that today is the 28th and you will have just put your deposit down, you can pay for the upcoming month’s rent on November first and we will count the three days as free.” It’s not the most businesslike of arrangements, but it’s probably the easiest way to deal with the extra few days. It’s also probably the most  _ friendly _ , if he wants to start this off on the right foot. 

The urge to kick Ren out of the house for the moment, though, is high. Hux would prefer to work on the contract in peace, and he’s not used to having anyone hovering -- but this is theoretically his new housemate, so it feels a bit up in the air with whether or not that’s something Hux should be doing. 

So Hux settles for, “Is there anything else I can help you with for now?”

The slightly raised eyebrow and the somewhat uncomfortable expression on Hux’s face is enough, coupled with his polite question, for Kylo to take his cue. Pulling the car keys from his pocket, he shakes his head.

“No. I…thank you, really.” He means it. He’s grateful that Hux is giving him the benefit of the doubt. That he’s not asking a lot of questions that Kylo doesn’t really want to answer. “I’ll be back by this afternoon.” 

Hux seems mildly concerned about that, lips parted around something that Kylo waits for him to say, but then he just nods, and gives him a small smile that makes Kylo’s cheeks a little bit warm. Before Hux can see that, however, Kylo skirts the kitchen table and is through the front door, careful to shut it firmly behind him. He lingers on the stoop for just a moment, allowing the autumn sunlight to filter through his eyelids, breathing in the rural air with its aromas of dried leaves and forest loam.

_ Yes,  _ he thinks.  _ This will be a good place for him. Crisp air, far from the insomniac buzz of the city, an address he doesn’t need to give out. _

_ Maybe he’ll find some peace at last. _

* * *

 

It doesn’t take Kylo long to move in. 

His worldly possessions fit into a backpack, one dilapidated cardboard box, and a laundry basket. When Hux catches Kylo staring into the empty closet in his new room, holding a stack of clothes and realizing he hasn’t brought any hangers with him, his new roommate offers to help him move a small chest of drawers in from the guest bedroom. Hux is welcoming without hovering, only asking Kylo once if he needs anything, and then letting him unpack and adjust in peace. Kylo is glad for it; he doesn’t want any more attention called to his spartan circumstances than necessary. 

It’s early evening by the time he has everything squared away and has taken a long shower; something about how Hux borders on genteel with his perfectly ordered hair and manicured nails makes Kylo a bit self-conscious. He is trudging barefoot down the stairs toward the kitchen when he realizes that in his elation to be leaving a tangible bit of the past of behind him, he’s forgotten to buy anything to eat. Or bring anything so utilitarian as a glass for water. He actually pauses at the bottom of the staircase and considers just turning and going back up, calling it a night so he can get an early start in the morning, when he hears the soft sound of the television in the living room. Hesitating for only a moment, he decides to attempt to make a positive impression and play the role of someone engaging and friendly. Perhaps if he keeps the act up long enough, he’ll even start to feel that way.

Hux is on the couch as Kylo pads quietly in, and glances up at him curiously.  

“Did you get everything moved in fine?” Hux says, pausing the documentary he’s watching. He had tried not to watch too much, to stay out of Kylo’s hair, but it had been difficult not to notice that the man had come in with practically three things to his name and not much else. Hux is heavily debating letting the man have his guest towels after he’d asked to borrow one earlier. It’s not like Hux needs them. 

Hux had reheated some dinner earlier, simple chicken with lemon and orzo, but he hadn’t noticed Kylo eating anything. The man hadn’t moved any belongings into the kitchen, which Hux had moderately expected, but he  _ had _ expected to see him emerge for food at some point during his moving activities.

“Do you want any dinner? I have leftovers from yesterday.” He asks, waving a hand toward the kitchen. They are roommates now, housemates, and Hux doesn’t mind the idea of company all that much. It’s actually -- almost appealing, the idea of being able to provide some food for Kylo, who seems altogether too much like a lost animal. “It’s chicken and orzo. It’s in the kitchen -- please help yourself.”

Kylo blinks at Hux, surprised by the generosity and unnerved at the thought of taking anything from Hux, who gazes at him with a beetled brow and concerned eyes. Kylo is, however, terribly hungry, and can't remember the last time he ate. Pride takes a back seat to that. 

“That would be nice,” he says, glancing at the kitchen.  Then he colors slightly. “I didn't bring any… dishware. I didn't even think about it. Do you have paper plates or something?  I'll go shopping in the morning. Get towels and stuff. And should I get anything else?  For the house?” He realizes he's babbling, and bites down on his bottom lip. 

Hux cannot stop himself from grimacing at the idea of paper plates. How uncouth and also wasteful. “Help yourself to any of the dishware.” It’s all white and plain, but rather nice, regardless. “Doesn’t help me much having a set of dishes for twelve when it’s just me.”

But Kylo’s suggestion had been decent, as well as welcome. Hux hadn’t expected the generosity out of him -- especially considering how down on his luck he seemed upon their first meeting. “No, but thank you. If we begin to run low on dish soap or anything, you can purchase some. It also might be useful for you to pick up your own laundry detergent and that sort of thing.” The idea of sharing a few household items is -- not nearly as unpleasant as Hux originally might have thought.

Kylo feels a shameful flush in his cheeks at the suggestion that he might need to share such basic things as laundry detergent, and then he realizes he’s asking just as much to borrow a plate. Food. He hesitates, pinching the flesh of his forearm with his anxious fingernails, before he swallows and nods. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, and disappears into the kitchen. He reappears a few minutes later with a plate, warmed in the microwave, and hovers in the center of the den before sinking down onto the couch beside Hux, a full cushion between them. He simply holds the food for several minutes, stomach tense, before forcing himself to pick up his fork and take a bite. 

“It's good,” he murmurs when he's done chewing. His eyes are trained on the television. The picture blurs for a space of seconds, black lines rolling across the screen. Hux doesn't notice because he's looking at Kylo. 

It’s a little strange, Hux thinks, having someone so close to him, so much inside his personal space. For years now, he’s had a whole house between him and the rest of the world, except when he chose to leave or to have people over. Having someone so near him now is jarring -- in a not entirely unpleasant way. 

“I’m glad you like it. It would be a shame for it to go to waste.” 

They sit in companionable silence. Hux watches the television while listening to the scrape of Kylo’s fork against the ceramic plate. The lack of conversation isn’t bad -- it’s actually far more comfortable than Hux would have thought.

The television flickers again, but this time Hux catches it with a frown.

“The signal must have gone a bit weird,” he says. As Hux speaks, he catches the hint of a small tabby head peeking around the corner of the room, and his attention is quickly diverted. “Oh! Millicent!” Delight, as always, creeps into his voice. “Come here, baby.” He makes the sort of soft noise she loves, and she comes trotting toward him, bell on her collar jingling, despite any trepidation she might feel about the stranger sitting next to Hux on the couch. 

“ Kylo,” Hux says, picking Millicent up and putting her on his lap, “this is Millicent. She’s pretty friendly.” He smiles, watching Millicent creep off his lap and closer to Kylo, her nose poking nearer to his plate of food. “She also loves chicken, so please watch your food carefully.”

Kylo sets his fork down and holds his fingers out. Millicent sniffs them curiously, then loses interest in favor of Kylo’s plate. It affords him the opportunity to scratch behind her ears gently, which she acknowledges with an undulating tail. He is pleased, because animals don’t always seem to be quite comfortable around him, and cats especially make him nervous. Indeed, his heart is arrhythmic. Silly. It’s just a cat.

Kylo opens his mouth to share his pleasure at Millicent’s approval with Hux when there is a sudden crash in the kitchen, the sound of shattering glass sending his erstwhile feline friend tearing away across Hux’s lap and behind the couch.

Whirling to face the kitchen, Kylo is immediately thinking of what he could have done…left a cabinet open? That didn’t make sense, though. The dishes in those cabinets were well placed, stacked away from edges. They were up high.

“Do you have another cat?” he asks Hux softly, throat tight.

Hux’s eyes narrow. “No,” he says, “I don’t.” The place where Millicent had been sitting on his lap is now cold and empty. It doesn’t help much that her claws came out when she spooked, and now he can feel the smarting pin-pricks through his trousers.

“Something must have been balanced precariously,” Hux says, pushing himself up from the couch to investigate.

The second he gets into the kitchen, he realizes just how cold he has set the thermostat to the house. A sudden shiver runs down his spine and goosebumps arise on his forearms. He grumbles, but his attention is caught moreso by the glass shards littering the tiled floor. “F—,’ he curses, and begins sweeping it all up into a dust bin.

The sight of Kylo peeking his head around the corner of the kitchen catches Hux’s eye. He looks concerned, maybe a little guilty. Hux can’t be mad at those doe eyes. The urge to reassure him, to assign blame elsewhere, is too alluringly strong. “I’m sure Millicent just pushed it close to the edge of the counter. Don’t worry about it.”

But for the life of him, Hux can’t figure out how that might have happened. 

* * *

Hux had told Kylo good night after the incident in the kitchen. Kylo could not tell if his new roommate was upset with him, but there had been something strained around his eyes as he’d carried Millicent up the stairs to the room at the end of the hall.

Kylo is lost in thought as he stands over the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth. He’s considering whether to text anyone to let them know where he is, and then wondering if anyone would really notice his absence at this point. He’d checked his phone earlier that afternoon, and there were no messages: no one imploring him to come home, no one asking him to stop by or pick up an extra shift. It is like he’s entered a void, where out of sight he is also out of mind. That suits him well enough.

Or so he tells himself. 

His eyes are cast down as he rinses the toothbrush, careful to make sure that all the paste washes out of Hux’s pristine porcelain sink. That is when he sees it. Movement, reflected in the mirror. 

Kylo stares past his own reflection, seeing nothing but the cheerful powder-blue shower curtain directly behind him. It is still now, but the room feels suddenly cold and slightly charged, like the air right before a storm. He thinks of the kitchen a half hour before, chilly enough that Hux’s pale arms had been covered with gooseflesh as he’d swept up the remains of a shattered tumbler. Hux had muttered something about having the thermostat too low, but Kylo pictures the way Hux had hovered in front of it in the upstairs hallway before going into his room with a quizzical look on his face, and how he hadn’t adjusted it. Maybe the house is just like this - old and full of strange drafts.

Kylo drops his toothbrush in the cup on the sink, and takes a single step toward the door. Then he pauses, feeling slightly silly as he shuffles back and tucks his fingers into the shower curtain, flipping it back and peering inside. 

Nothing.

He snorts, a harsh sound of self-deprecating humor, and turns the light off behind him.

He glances down the hall on the way to his room, and sees that Hux’s light is a thin strip of soft gold beneath his closed bedroom door. Kylo hovers in the hall for a moment, sorting through various mental images: Hux with Millicent in his lap, reading a book. Hux tapping away on his laptop, papers fanned out on the quilt. He wonders briefly what sorts of things his new housemate reads, what he finds interesting. There is something about him that is familiar to Kylo - a shroud of loneliness, perhaps, as though he recognizes that a person can be surrounded by others, but be completely alone. 

He decides not to dwell on that thought, as there is surely no reason to be invested in the idea that Hux will ever be more than just his landlord. Not a friend. That is, after all, what he came here to escape, is it not? 

Kylo shuts his door, then tugs his t-shirt off and tosses it on the floor, sliding beneath the blankets in his pajama pants. The sheets are soft, and he instantly feels a measure of irrational guilt for borrowing something so nice. Hugging one of the throw-pillows to his chest, he stares out the window at the dark silhouette of distant trees against a clear navy sky. The moon is close tonight, its face pocked by other-worldly craters and ridges, and Kylo drifts to sleep imagining walking upon its surface.

_ The dream is always the same. He’s behind the wheel of the car, painted yellow lines on the road flashing by, the details outside the windshield muted by the pouring rain and the haze of his unconscious mind. His father is beside him in the passenger seat, and he’s trying to tell Kylo something, but his words are drowned out in a constant encompassing shriek that is like hurricane wind and squealing tires and twisting metal.  _

_ Kylo doesn’t want to look at his father. He doesn’t want to look because it’s always the same, but he turns his head anyway, compelled by something more powerful than his terror. It’s not Han beside him. It never is. It’s something shaped like Han below the shoulders, wearing that same jacket, but where his face should be, there is just a writhing oil slick shadow, a black yawning pit in place of a mouth, from which that maddening echo spills, rising in pitch, desperate to be heard, to tell Kylo he’d failed him, that he’d let him die, and then there are lights bouncing across the median, and Kylo’s head snaps back too late because he is yelling at his father to stop STOP can’t STOP !  _

Kylo’s eyes snap open, fingers a death grip on the quilt, pillows knocked to the floor, leg tangled in the sheets as though he’d been running. Trying to escape the dream. His heart is pounding, jaw aching from clenched teeth. 

He wants to scream. 

He’d been foolish to think that a change in scenery, a new beginning, would divest him of the nightmare or the horrible, crushing guilt. He sighs, stretches an arm out to snatch the pillows back onto the bed. His phone reads three am. 

It takes him a long time to fall back asleep, but exhaustion finally claims him, and it is dark and dreamless. So deep is his repose, in fact, that he does not hear the hinges creak as the door to his bedroom yawns inward, revealing an empty hallway beyond.


	2. Chapter 2

When Hux wakes with the dawn light creeping through thin curtains, after his customary six-point-five hours of sleep, there is something different.

He is aware of it instantly, though he can’t quite put a finger on  _ what  _ it is, especially with his head still hazy with sleep. He gives himself a minute to wake up fully. He doesn’t want to be too lax, especially considering he is not alone in his home anymore. If there is any sort of danger -- not that he thinks Kylo is necessarily dangerous -- he doesn’t want to wave it off for too long. 

And that’s theoretically all it could be -- just the weight and warmth and presence of another body in the house alongside him. Kylo could be puttering around downstairs and Hux’s brain could have categorized it as  _ Different _ enough to have his heart beating fractionally faster, urging his brain to take notice. Figure out the difference. But, after a moment of quiet listening, he can tell that that’s not it: the house is quiet, lacking any sort of noise from another living being.

But -- the noise is all wrong.

The soft, muffled acoustics of his room are  _ off _ . Instantly, Hux sits up in bed. Millicent, who has been snoozing peacefully next to him chirrs and opens her eyes in slits, perhaps glaring at Hux for waking her. “Sorry, Millie,” he murmurs, his brain only half on the apology. 

Hux looks around -- and the problem is immediately apparent: his bedroom door is open. Wide open. He distinctly remembers closing it the previous night. He always sleeps with the door closed, and he had been extra conscientious of making sure to close it with Kylo also in the house. For privacy. To maintain a clear delineation of personal space.

Regardless of Hux’s intentions or his actions, the door is open now. 

The acoustics of the room are different with it open -- immediately apparent. He can hear minute sounds from all over the house. The space feels larger, emptier -- less cozy. He doesn’t like it.

Millicent stretches and jumps off the bed, padding out the door to the first level of the house before Hux can stop her. He’s sure it’s fine, but her retreat from the room has him performing his morning routine quickly, just in case.

While he gets ready, he considers the options. Either Hux forgot to close the door properly the previous night -- perhaps the latch hadn’t clicked completely -- or...or Kylo opened the door while Hux was sleeping. To what purpose? Hux isn’t sure, but he also doesn’t like the idea at all. From the very brief impression he got of the other man, it doesn’t strike him as something he’d do -- but you never truly know someone, especially an acquaintance. 

Whatever the reason, it doesn’t  _ feel right _ , though. It leaves him on edge throughout his morning routine. A quick glance down the hallway as he leaves his room and moves to the bathroom shows all the doors as open, but when Hux makes it downstairs, Kylo is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he has left for the day.

Hux feels better when he spots Millicent hovering around her food bowl, meowing for her breakfast. “Good girl,” he says, double checking to make sure the doors to the outside are closed -- they are. 

There’s still no sign of Kylo.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” he says to this cat, once her bowl is full and he has his own breakfast in front of him.

Hux eats in silence, and finds that he is noticing the quiet emptiness of the house around him more so than he has on other days, magnifying the small sounds of his mundane morning. The scrape of his fork against the plate is louder than it should be, and the ticking of the clock on the living room wall echoes in his skull, right behind his teeth. He finds himself obsessively counting arbitrary seconds, mechanically finishing his breakfast. He wonders, even though he shouldn’t, where his new housemate has gotten off to. 

He’s washing his dishes and stacking them on the drying rack when the deep rumble of a sports engine fills the kitchen and his belly, and Hux looks to the window to see a smudge of red beyond the curtain: Kylo’s car. He cannot deny, as much as he wishes to, the small thrill that courses through him that his housemate is not indeed absent for the duration of the day. His lips curl in a tentative smile as Kylo opens the door and shoulders through, arms loaded with bags. 

Kylo notices Hux as he toes the door shut, and returns the smile before looking down. Hux can’t figure if the man is shy, or not good with people, or just doesn’t want to invite social interaction. He considers just leaving the kitchen, so as not to ply him with unwanted company, when Kylo dumps his bags on the counter and glances again at Hux with those dark, round eyes that manage to be so guileless and full of dark things, all at once.

“I got a few things,” Kylo says unnecessarily. “For the house. I tried to find a glass like the one that broke last night, but none of them looked like the picture I took with my phone and I thought you probably wouldn’t want one that didn’t match.” He brushes his nose with the back of his hand, and clears his throat.

Hux cannot help but be a little shocked -- pleasantly so, anyway. He hadn’t expected Kylo to be the sort of person to try and replace something that had broken, much less something that he had no part in breaking himself. 

“Thank you,” Hux says. His shoulders already feel a little lighter at the kind gesture. It doesn’t matter that Kylo couldn’t find the glasses. It matters that he  _ looked _ for them to begin with. “I don’t think you’ll find anything like them. They were my parents’ -- from Ireland most likely. I doubt they even make them anymore.”

To that, Kylo gives him a look. Hux has no true idea what it means, but from the pained twinge around Kylo’s lips and the crease between his two full eyebrows, Hux knows that it wasn’t necessarily the right thing to say. It was meant to make him feel  _ better _ , not worse. “No, no, it’s just --” 

He sighs, pushing his hands into his pockets because he’s not entirely sure what to do with them. He feels like he should help unload the heavy bag, but doesn’t want to help without being asked, doesn’t want to butt in where he isn’t wanted. Kylo’s friendliness seems tenuous, at best, and Hux doesn’t want to burn bridges before they’re even conceptualized yet. He takes a breath, deep and even, and tries again: “What I mean to say is that the glasses are very old and are probably very brittle. They were my parents, not mine, and I have no real sentimental attachment to them at all.”

Kylo looks a bit more pleased at that; the tension slips from his posture and he looks scores less guilty. “In fact,” Hux carries on, “If you, or Millicent, or -- whatever ghost pushed it off the counter to begin with, were to break more of them, I would have an excuse to get a new set.” He laughs at the idea of a  _ ghost _ , of all things -- how preposterous. An earthquake is more likely.

Kylo responds with a small huff of laughter, and a bright grin. He finds himself about to say  _ now I know what to put on your Christmas list _ , the statement feeling so natural in course of thought that he actually opens his mouth, and must shut it before he blunders across a boundary. He just met this man yesterday, and Kylo hates holidays, and yet now he’s planning one? He must be wearing an expression betraying this unexpected thought process, but Hux clearly doesn’t divine its specifics. Instead, Hux’s brow beetles and he appears to be preparing to further clarify or apologize in regard to his glassware, but Kylo intervenes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, and is pleased when Hux’s face clears. Kylo can’t help but notice from this proximity that Hux’s green eyes are flecked with gold, and seem to lighten when he smiles.

They both stand there for a moment, Kylo with one hand tangled in the plastic bag handles, Hux leaning against the sink counter, regarding one another. They seem to both recognize their weighted and curious silence at the same moment, as Kylo clears his throat and Hux looks down with a pretty splash of color across his nose. 

Kylo unwinds himself from the bags on the counter, and focuses on extracting his purchases. He’d exhausted his meager savings paying Hux the deposit and first month’s rent, and so he’d put these necessities on his credit card. 

He pulls out a large plastic travel mug, complete with an oversized red straw, and turns it to show Hux the Darth Vader image plastered on the side. 

“This should fit with your fine china, don’t you think?” He bites the inside of his cheek and refuses to blush.

Hux can’t help but chuckle at the travel mug. It’s so cheesy, so childish, and yet so  _ perfect _ for Kylo. He doesn’t look at all ridiculous holding it, at least not any more ridiculous than he already does, with long limbs and features too attractive to be real. The fact that Kylo seems to like Darth Vader is the least surprising fact Hux has extricated from him, not that he has many others to compare it to. But it’s pretty perfect, regardless.

“Should I call you Darth Kylo, then?” Hux teases. He is well acquainted with the franchise, and has spent many an hour watching the movies, as well as some time reading the various books. As a child, he’d even rented and watched the (admittedly terrible) Ewok movies from Blockbuster, much to his father’s annoyance.

Kylo just smiles at that, and proceeds to carefully mingle his things with Hux’s: blue plastic plates with Hux’s antique ceramic, a package of plastic silverware that makes Hux cringe laid out beside heirloom silver. Into the freezer go Totinos pizzas and cheap burritos, and Hux’s fresh vegetables and fruits are harried aside for a case of Mountain Dew. 

It’s surprisingly easy falling into a pattern with Kylo. Conversation flows easily, if not a bit slowly given both of their predilections for shyness. Hux feels at ease around Kylo, comfortable with him in the house, in his space. It’s strange -- but not unwelcome. 

A noise clatters from the other room, echoing faintly off the walls and appliances in the kitchen. A moment later, Millicent comes sprinting through the room -- tail poofed, hair on end. Hux rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. “Cats,” he sighs. Always with the running from place to place from invisible shadows, knocking things over in their wake.

 

* * *

The next couple of days pass peacefully, as the two of them grow used to occupying the same space. Kylo is courteous to the point of being almost self-effacing - he doesn’t leave dishes out, he’s careful to always put things back like he found them, and he’s quiet. Wraithlike, almost. Hux finds himself going out of his way to speak to Kylo, to find the triggers that make him smile, or make the lights come on his dark eyes. In this way, Hux finds himself suggesting, when Kylo casually mentions the lack of a jack-o-lantern for Halloween, that they go find a pumpkin and carve one together. 

This turns into an unexpected adventure which is remarkably personal for two people that hardly know each other. There’s something electric and intimate about sharing a car for the purpose of picking out something to decorate Hux’s house for a holiday. Even if they do both live there. 

They could have gone to the local grocery store and picked up something in the guise of adding it to an impromptu shopping trip, but Kylo almost immediately upon buckling himself into Hux’s Subaru tells him that as a child, he’d gone to pick out a pumpkin with his parents each year on the very same day of October. After that, Hux’s car seems to point itself in the direction of the pumpkin patch that dots a small farm a few miles from the house. 

That afternoon had involved more wandering through the patch, affecting a search for the perfect specimen while they trade memories of bad costumes and scary movies they’d stayed up too late watching as kids. Eventually, something is settled on and taken home, and Kylo had mocked up a page of potential carving designs that had Hux pink with laughter. 

The result, which Hux stoops to light on Halloween night, is actually quite a piece of art - Kylo has talent, that much is apparent even with such a stubborn gourd for a medium. He looks in appreciation and amusement both at the delicately sculpted and chiseled relief of what Kylo says is the obvious use of the pumpkin’s overtly round facade: The Death Star. 

Hux admires the glowing, carved orb for a moment, taking in the crisp air of the night and the smell of pumpkins, before he moves back inside and carefully shuts the door behind him. The metallic click of the mechanism in the lock has him frowning, however. Hux can’t help but think of this morning, where he had yet again woken up to an open bedroom door, despite having closed it before he had gone to sleep. 

It’s been a few days of waking with his room wide open and echoey, and it’s been a bit puzzling and also grating. Hux doesn’t necessarily want to blame Kylo for it -- but he has no other theories. He has never had this problem before Kylo moved in, and it certainly can’t be just faulty locks and pure coincidence. 

But Hux doesn’t necessarily know how to broach the topic. 

He snags a Reese’s from the bowl they placed by the door earlier. They had each chosen their favorite candies in the hopes they might get trick-or-treaters -- they have been rare in previous years, but not unheard of. Typically the kids tend to frequent larger neighborhoods with a more dense population of houses. It doesn’t bother Hux much, though the idea of passing out candy with Kylo is -- strangely appealing.

 

* * *

Hux wanders into the living room with the taste of peanut butter on his tongue, to find Kylo with his legs curled up under him on the couch. “Where’s your Darth Vader mask? I thought you were going to put that on to open the door.” Hux doesn’t have a costume. Kylo had suggested he don a sheet with hilariously cut-out-eyes to be the ghost of knocked-over-glasses, but Hux had only laughed. 

“I think I’m scary enough without it, don’t you?” Kylo points at his scarred face with the remote control, a wry half smile curling his lips. He doesn’t give Hux a chance to respond before he returns his attention to the TV and says: “So, scary movie choices include  _ Pumpkinhead, The Conjuring,  _ and  _ Sharknado. _ ” 

Kylo’s cheek twitches at this last, trying not to laugh, and he finds himself surprised at his own relative jocularity. He feels strangely buoyant, as though Hux’s energy is somehow seeping into him. It’s been months since he’s actually not only accepted company, but sought it out. This experiment, of watching a horror movie on Halloween night, just as young Ben Solo had done, is his idea. 

Hux chuckles, “Please don’t put me through  _ Sharknado _ .”

Kylo feels Hux settle on the couch next to him, and looks over when he realizes the depression is on the cushion just beside his. Millicent is curled in Hux’s usual spot, and blinks at Kylo as though this arrangement is her idea.

And then the doorbell rings. Everyone, including the cat, glances toward the front of the house, the brass sound echoing and fading into eerie stillness. It shouldn’t have been a surprising situation - it is Halloween, after all, and no doubt the young kids are about early, before dark. 

“I’ll get it,” Kylo says before Hux can react. 

He lopes through the kitchen, picks up the bowl of candy on the way, and opens the door with a smile. 

The expression fades slowly into blankness, then bewilderment. There is no one there.

He steps out onto the front stoop, though it doesn’t really increase his view of the yard, which is rather complete from this vantage. The hedges and rose bushes along the front of the house are well-trimmed but thick, not fit for concealment, and beyond that, the driveway and paved path are empty. Kylo supposes some child, fleet of foot, could have rung the bell and run to dip around behind the corner. He thinks for a moment of going to check, but decides there’s not much of a point. He was not so different as a child, and had been harmless. 

Closing the door behind him, he returns to the kitchen and leaves the candy on the table, taking a mini pack of Starburst on the way. Flopping down by Hux again, he rips the package open, grunts when he sees two of the three candies are yellow, and begins to peel open the red one. 

“No one there,” he informs Hux.

Hux purses his lips. “Strange. You’d think the ‘trick’ part of  _ trick-or-treat _ would at least wait until the sun goes down.” He watches Kylo open the Starburst, studying the disappointed expression on his face. Daringly, he reaches over to where the candies lay on Kylo’s thigh, and snags one of the distasteful yellow ones for himself. If Kylo made a face like that, Hux figures he’s not going to eat them anyway -- or he’ll do it begrudgingly. Hux has always preferred the citrus flavors, so he feels like he’s doing Kylo a favor. “Or at least if we had run out of candy.” Which they’re not in danger of doing, even if both of them eat their fill.

“ _ The Conjuring  _ or  _ Pumpkinhead _ \-- it’s up to you, Kylo. I will sit through whatever terrible horror movie you subject me to -- but  _ only _ because it's Halloween.” Hux makes it sound like a concession, but it doesn’t feel like much of one when he is sitting mere inches away from his housemate, close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off his skin. No, that feels much more like a personal indulgence than anything. An inadvisable one, at that. Kylo is his housemate, and also a man he barely knows. Hoping for anything other than an acquaintanceship is frankly rather absurd. It’s just a passing attraction, that’s all.

A noise distracts Hux from the thought of taking another Starburst from Kylo’s possession. It comes from the back of the house where they are currently sitting -- just a soft scratch of something brushing up against the window at the side of the living room. 

Hux curses, and pries himself off of the couch, away from Kylo’s warmth and Millicent’s too-knowing eyes. “Whoever pranked you must have gone around the back.” It’s a stupid move. It’s not dark, only dusk outside, and therefore there is no place to truly hide.

So Hux plasters a stern look to his face and lets himself out the back door. He surveys the back yard, and then loops his way back around to the front. He circles the house, checking all of the places someone could potentially hide -- but he finds nothing. Discouraged, he lets himself back in through the back door. “No one,” he says to Kylo. “Probably off to annoy another house.”

Kylo glances at Hux as he sits back down, and thinks for some reason that the stern and slightly annoyed look suits him, making him look almost regal. He is still staring when Hux’s green eyes flick to him, and Kylo hurriedly looks back at the television. Flipping through Amazon’s on-demand choices, he stops on  _ The Conjuring _ and clicks it, handing Hux the remote to enter his passcode. Kylo feels a little guilty as Hux keys the numbers in, wishing that he still had an active card on his own account, or that he is doing something for Hux, instead of taking - it seems that it’s becoming an easy pattern to fall into.

An idea occurs to him. “Do you want a beer? I’m going to get one. I’ll get you one.” He’s off the couch before Hux can confirm or deny his interest in this. 

Kylo is prying the lid off an Octoberfest when the doorbell rings again. “...the fuck?” he mutters, and stalks toward the door slowly, as though he expects it to burst open at any moment. He peers through the narrow side window. There, on the stoop, is a bumblebee and a fairy, dutifully guarded by an incongruously plain-clothed adult.

Kylo laughs at himself, hides the beer in the kitchen, and opens the door to hand a couple of nervous but smiling faces a slightly overlarge handful of candy. 

Heading back to the den, he sinks back down beside Hux and offers him a beer. “Genuine trick-or-treaters,” he explains, then smirks. “I’m already too jumpy for this movie. You’ll have to protect me.” It’s an impulsive statement, the kind of overly-forward thing he says when he’s flirting, but he bites his lip and refuses to look at Hux after it slips out, hoping that perhaps it will go unnoticed. 

Hux snorts out a laugh and takes the beer. “I’ll yell at all the ghosts for you, don’t worry.” He’s not entirely certain what the intentions behind Kylo’s words are, but they’re friendly and jovial, and so it’s easiest to respond in kind and try to keep any blush from his cheeks. 

It’s been ages since Hux has watched any sort of scary movie. The last thing he can remember watching was the Exorcist when he was still in middle school, and while it had had his heart beating faster and him losing a little sleep afterwards, he doesn’t remember being too scared. Most of the other glimpses of horror movies he’s seen have all been Syfy made-for-TV movies -- all laughable, all terrible.

His expectations are pretty low, for both the quality of the movie, as well as its potential to actually scare him.

Turns out, he’s wrong to feel so confident.

The doorbell rings a few more times during the beginning of the movie. Dusk lingers for a while, bringing with it more trick-or-treaters. Each time, they pause the movie and one of them gets up from the couch to hand out candy to a variety of costumed children (as well as a couple teens). Each break pulls Hux from the film, which is fine. Perhaps it ruins the magic a bit, but Hux is fine with that. More than fine, maybe.

Hux is not about to admit that the movie already has goosebumps rolling down his arms or the hair on the back of his neck sticking up on end. His heart is starting to pound so loudly in his chest that he’s pretty sure Kylo can hear it. 

The doorbell chimes directly after one of the main characters is locked in the basement by the demonic entity, and Hux pushes himself off the couch before Kylo can decide to take his turn. He wants the distraction, the forcible interjection of reality. He hands two large handfulls of candy each to a group of three tiny stormtroopers. When Hux sits back down on the couch, he sits a little too close, his thigh brushing Kylo’s. His arm settles near his companion’s, heat seeping through the small space between them. Instantly, Hux feels a bit more calm. But he’s not about to call attention to the way he’s sitting, to admit he’s a little off-put by the movie. He’s certainly not _frightened_ \-- just a little unsettled, that’s all.

“Go ahead, play it.” Hux says, gesturing to the television.

Kylo risks a glance at him, also trying to play off that he’s definitely noticed Hux is sitting that much closer. His own heartbeat sounds just a bit too loudly, adrenaline making his stomach tight. A significant portion of his consciousness is zeroed in on the contact of Hux’s thigh where it grazes his knee. Kylo doesn’t look away quickly enough to hide his burgeoning preoccupation from Hux’s questioning round eyes. A damnable flush of warmth spreads over his nose as Kylo turns abruptly back to the tv.  _ What is he, thirteen? Really, really out of practice, that much is for sure. _

Clearing his throat, he pushes the play button. Neither of them speak for the rest of the movie, but there is a charged atmosphere, as though words or actions are pulsing just at the surface. They both shift a few times, as though trying to get more comfortable on Hux’s already comfortable couch, the end result being that Kylo is resting the remote control on Hux’s knee, and their shoulders are (quite obviously) touching. 

The doorbell doesn’t ring again, and outside the night is softly lit with a high full moon, limning the trees with silver. As the credits roll, Kylo realizes the last thing he wants to do is get up, to disrupt this fragile seeming closeness. 

He seeks his roommate’s attention, which he feels is already very much on him, by sliding the remote control a few inches along Hux’s thigh. “Do you want to watch something else?” Kylo looks at him, affecting a neutral expression. “I suppose there still might be someone come by.” 

The last thing Hux wants to do is watch another scary movie. He knows already that there is no chance in hell that his mind will let him sleep tonight. Instead, he will be focusing on every little movement in the house, every sound. Millicent has always made noises, and the house has always quietly settled, as houses do -- but Hux knows that now, at least for the next few days, he will be terrified by every creak, every bump.

That’s the perfect cue for a squirrel, or other small creature, to skitter across the roof. The noise is muffled from one story down, but Hux bristles nonetheless. He leans into Kylo’s side, clearly momentarily spooked. He feels warm, then cold, then altogether very stupid. There’s no reason to be scared -- the movie was just a movie, and the scratching on the roof was only some nocturnal creature.

The reasonable thing to do would be to go to bed. To pretend to sleep for long enough that his body at least gets some rest. But he doesn’t want to move from the couch, from his warm place at Kylo’s side. It’s -- inadvisable, probably. He has to keep telling himself that he doesn’t know this man, doesn’t have any reason for the attraction that is so clearly there. 

“Let’s watch something else,” Hux finds himself saying. Even though he wants nothing less than to watch another horror movie. But he cannot help the false bravado in his voice, and he cannot help the fact that he doesn’t want to get up. “After all, it’s Halloween. What better time to watch scary movies?”

Kylo smiles, nerves alight at every point that Hux’s slight form is pressed against him. He could have shifted away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans further into the couch cushions, and scrolls through the movie menu.

 

* * *

 

 

Kylo snaps awake again at three thirty AM, disoriented, not sure if he’d been having the same dream, or if something else had jerked him from sleep. He blinks in the darkness, turning his head toward the window, where the curtain flutters in the draft from the central heat. The world is utterly still outside, unnaturally quiet. 

He is parched, mouth cottony and head aching as though hungover, but he’d only had the one beer earlier that night. Thoughts are fuzzy, coming back to him as though filtering through thick, frosted glass. 

He and Hux had made it through half of another movie before soft, even breathing signaled that his roommate had fallen asleep on the couch next to him. Kylo had let him sleep, lulled by the placidity of it and mesmerized, in a way, by the tacit trust it displayed. Finally, however, Kylo had almost been pulled down into sleep himself, and decided that would hardly do. The last thing he needed was for Hux to be privy to his frequent nightmares. Waking Hux cautiously, they’d shuffled off to bed in a slightly strained and overly-formal manner, with an awkward pause in the upstairs hallway, and confirmation they’d see each other in the morning. 

Kylo snorts at that memory, lips curving into a smile at the sheer absurdity. He’s thinking of Hux as he drops his feet over the edge of the bed, the wooden floor leeching the warmth from his feet. Reaching for the door handle, he twists the knob and pulls, then nearly loses his balance and tilts backward when the door doesn’t budge. 

Brow furrowing, he turns the knob harder, wiggling it back and forth. Had Hux….locked him in? The thought makes his pulse jump, but then he tells himself that makes no sense. 

Turning on the light, he bends to peer through the door jamb as he tries the handle again, looking for a locking mechanism attempting to disengage. This house is old, and the doors lock from the inside and out with a key. Kylo has seen no evidence of such a key, and the heavy bolt that would slide in place in such an event is not visible through the crack. At least not with the overhead light. 

Trying the knob one last time, Kylo growls softly in frustration, then lets go and turns to pace back to the bedside table and retrieve his phone. He cycles through his apps for the pinpoint flashlight, and just as he’s about to turn back, he hears a  _ click.  _

Then the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open. 

He is frozen for perhaps three full seconds, frigid air assaulting his neck where the fine hairs stand on end. Then he whirls.

There is nothing there. 

Nothing but an empty, open doorway.

Adrenaline is coursing through him, making his hands shake before he tucks them beneath his arms. Kylo walks through the door after a moment of hesitation, and peers down the hallway. Hux’s light is off, door closed. There are no lights on downstairs, and no strange sounds. Kylo stands there for a long time, caught between feeling profoundly disturbed and colossally stupid. This place is old, quirky. He knows that already. He sat up all night watching horror movies, dealing with prankster kids, and didn’t sleep well. 

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Kylo crosses the hall to the bathroom. He avoids looking in the mirror as he runs himself a glass of water. He drains it, fills another, and carries it back to his bedroom. He leaves the door open, gets back into bed, and lays on his side. Despite telling himself that there is nothing strange going on, he watches the open door until he finally falls asleep, hours later.

 

* * *

 

 

When Hux wakes, hours later, he feels like consciousness is suddenly and abruptly thrust upon him. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, but it is foreign. It’s as if his body has agreed to be  _ suddenly awake _ , without giving any sort of consultation to his brain. The fog of sleep still nips at his thoughts, but his body and everything in him is completely and totally ready to go.

It’s strange that he fell asleep so easily -- first on Kylo’s shoulder, then in his own bed -- given how scared he had been about the movies. But Hux had found something comforting about sitting next to Kylo, as inadvisable as that perhaps was. Sleep had found him during the second movie, and then again after, far too easily. Not that he’s complaining much -- he feels, despite the disorientation at being awake, rather well rested.

Hux yawns and stretches, pushing the covers down his legs with his movement. He luxuriates in the quickly fading feeling of sleep for a moment before reality catches up with him. It takes him a second, but he notices it, just like has noticed it every other morning: his door is open.

He closed it last night, the click of the lock still a recent memory in his thoughts.

_ That’s it _ , Hux thinks. He cannot take it anymore. He has got to bring it up with Kylo, even if it’s awkward.

He pulls on clothes, goes through his morning routine with a bit more apprehension than necessary. Hux notes, before he ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, that Kylo’s bedroom door is open. It’s not a huge jump of logic to assume that Kylo has already gone downstairs. So, when Hux is exiting the bathroom, momentarily blinded by the action of tugging a sweater over his head, he doesn’t expect to run straight into a warm chest. Kylo’s chest.

Hux takes a step back and tugs the sweater the rest of the way over his head. Carefully, he straightens out his mussed hair, trying to keep the blush from his cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still here.”

‘Where else would I be?” Kylo mutters fuzzily, sleep hazed. He’s charged with static from colliding with Hux. 

Hux’s brow furrows. “Out?” As if it’s obvious. “Your door was open.”

Kylo turns his head over his shoulder, running a hand through his sleep-tousled locks. “Um… yeah. About that…” Dimly, the memory of being locked in his room the night before flickers across his consciousness. “Do these doors sometimes um… stick?” His gaze swings back to Hux, who is looking at him with a mix of confused and crossness. “I… tried to get out last night and… couldn’t. Like it was um… locked.” He feels ridiculous, reporting this late night half-dream.

Hux frowns. He had wanted to take the opportunity to ask Kylo about the open doors, but he supposes that can wait. “It’s an old house -- I suppose they can occasionally stick.” He can’t remember any time in recent memory that he’s had that problem, but he supposes that it’s possible. “I can take a look at it for you later today, if you’d like.” That’s what he should do as a landlord, right?  Hux clears his throat. “Actually, I -- I have something that I’ve been meaning to ask you, if you have a moment.”

Kylo shrugs, nods. “I tried to  look last night but then it just … opened. Fuck. I don’t know.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, where a headache is pulsing. “What did you want to ask?” Hux looks rather small in his sweater. Cute. Even though Kylo isn’t in the mood for that.

It’s hard, asking what seems like a difficult question, while Kylo looks too tired, like he has a headache mounting. Hux takes a deep breath, and decides to just go for it: “Have you been opening my door at night?” It sounds so strange, so accusatory, but Hux can’t necessarily help his tone, so he decides to press on. “I close the door every night when I go to sleep, and it’s been open every morning.”

Kylo’s mouth drops open. “Am I … what? Why would I … no? Are you locking me in my fucking room at night?” Things had been going so well… of course it would come to this. Some bullshit suggestion that made Kylo look unstable. Untrustworthy. “I’m honestly sick of shit like this,” he snaps. He winces when Hux’s lips quirk. It is too early for a filter between brain and mouth. He’s had no coffee. He didn’t sleep well the night before. “Look. Sorry. No. Why would I?”

Hux can’t help but take a single step back, away from Kylo and his heat. Hux hadn’t expected that kind of ire, that level of frustration. He wants to apologize, but he won’t -- he’s not sorry. The cause and effect are  _ there _ , pure and simple. “It’s never happened before,” he says, annoyance clear in his voice. He cannot help the sneer. “It started happening when you moved in. I don’t think that’s necessarily a strange question for me to ask. If you’re not, you’re not. That’s it.” Unfortunately, if Kylo isn’t doing it, Hux isn’t entirely sure why it’s happening.

Kylo frowns. “I’m .. not. Seriously. I’m not a fucking psycho.” His stomach clenches, jaw tight. “If you don’t believe me…” He crosses his arms.

Hux must admit, the defensiveness that wracks Kylo’s posture is a surprise. He’s not entirely prepared for it, nor is he prepared for the clear temper there. “ _ Fine _ ,” he says, trying to keep both the defeat and annoyance out of his voice at the same time. It only half works -- the word ends up sounding clipped and flat. “It’s not you.”

Whether or not he believes Kylo is still a bit up in the air, given that as distasteful as the idea that his housemate is messing with him -- it’s better than the alternative of the unknown. 

Regardless, Hux knows when to pick his battles. He’s certainly not about to try and argue with Kylo right here in the hallway, both of them fuzzy and addled by sleep. He gestures to the side, Kylo’s bulk practically blocking his way, and raises his eyebrows. “I was just about to head downstairs.”

“Yeah,” Kylo mumbles. “Ok.” He moves aside to let Hux pass, trying not to glare at him when he throws a parting glance over his shoulder. 

Kylo hovers there at the top of the stairs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Examining the recent conversation, he realizes that he’d essentially bitten Hux’s head off for what truly was not an unreasonable question. Hux did not know him, had no reason to think of him as a person above reproach - no matter the easy camaraderie that seems to have been building steadily between them.

Sighing, he treads heavily down the staircase in Hux’s wake, deciding what he really needs in this moment is coffee. He reaches the bottom just in time to see his roommate stop in his tracks in the archway to the kitchen, as suddenly as if he’d hit a wall. 

Hux makes an aborted noise in his throat, perhaps the start of Kylo’s name, but the sound dies before it can really start.

He cannot truly comprehend what he sees in front of him in the kitchen. It is a  _ disaster.  _ Hux’s first, immediate thought is that someone broke in and destroyed the place. The problem is, what really gets him freezing in the doorway like prey, is that the catastrophe is far too methodical to be someone simply breaking in and trashing the kitchen for kicks. It’s -- truly something straight out of a horror story.

“Kylo,” he tries again. Vaguely he head the other man traipse down the stairs behind him. “Kylo,” he repeats, because it’s the only sound his mouth can seem to form.

“Did you do this?” He finally manages, eyes glued to his kitchen. He sounds terrified, horrified -- and he feels it too, deep down to the bone.

When Kylo rounds the corner he sees what has Hux stopping in his tracks. 

Every cabinet door, every drawer, stands open. The six chairs that surround the table are stacked in the center of it, end over end in a precarious, deliberate fashion. The counters are covered in items from the cabinets - boxes of pasta, cans, jars, all stacked in irregular piles. 

Kylo cannot even respond to Hux’s inquiry, absurd as it is, for a long moment. There is no way whatsoever that whoever did this could have done so without Kylo hearing it. His room is at the top of the stairs, and he’d lain awake much of the night. 

Or is whoever had snuck into the house the night before the one who locked Kylo in his room?

Gooseflesh crawls over his arms, and he realizes he’s holding his breath, making his pulse thump loudly in his ears. He scans the room for some clue, and finds only that the front door is standing wide open. He knows it had been closed the night before. 

“What...the fuck.” It’s the only thing he can get out.

Kylo’s response isn’t a negative to Hux’s question, but it practically is. With the way Kylo’s expression hangs, truly horrified, at the sight in the kitchen, it looks like it’s the first he’s seen of it too. Hux could leave it be, take the curse and comment as a response and be done with that line of questioning --

But that’s not what Hux wants. He wants an answer. He  _ wants _ Kylo to be responsible for this, for his door, for all of it. It’s the easiest answer, the simplest. He doesn’t like the idea that someone broke in, just to do this, to terrify him. 

“ _ Please _ tell me you did this,” Hux says, taking a step forward into the kitchen to admire, in terrible awe, the precarious stacks of goods and furniture.

First, he looks at the chairs on top of the table. If he were to nudge them even slightly, breathe too heavily on them, he knows that they would fall. The sheer amount of  _ effort _ and patience it would have taken to stack them in this way is nearly impossible. It’s ludicrous. 

They don’t even wobble. They’re perfectly balanced.

Next, he inches toward the counter to where his wine glasses, stemmed and stemless alike, are stacked one on top of another, in a truly haphazard fashion, next to another tall tower of jam jars. The sheer impossibility of it makes him feel nauseous. 

“ _ Please, _ ” Hux says again. With all his heart he wishes to turn around to face Kylo, look him in the eyes but he cannot take his eyes off of the kitchen, does not dare turn his back on this.

Kylo slowly returns to reality - or rather some supernatural semblance of it, and it registers at last what Hux is asking. His first reaction is incredulity, that Hux would suggest something like this, but it’s tailed very quickly by anger. It boils in his chest, coiling tightly with a profound indignation. What, Kylo wants to know, could he possibly project as a person that Hux could imagine that he’d skulk down the stairs in the middle of the night and play some ridiculous, juvenile prank like this? 

“Are you serious?” he grinds out. 

It is definitely not the answer that Hux wants.

Hux wants to spin on his heel, to get up in Kylo’s face and snarl at him -- but he still can’t turn his back on the kitchen. He feels it instinctively. Now that he’s in it, standing up close to all of the precarious stacks, he feels cold. Empty, except for the anger boiling inside him at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Of  _ course _ I’m serious!” He wants Kylo to hear the desperation in his voice, the hope that this  _ was _ Kylo -- but he doesn’t. No, Kylo is caught up on the idea that Hux wants to blame him for this strange occurrence, this strange phenomenon. All Hux wants is an easy answer.

“Just tell me you did this, and that’s it,” Hux says, voice strained with something he’d not like to admit to being fear. His fear last night at the movie pales in comparison to this. “We’ll take it down, we’ll put it all away and then we won’t ever talk about it again!” 

Kylo is suddenly Ben Solo again, four feet tall, listening to his mother berate him for tracking mud in the house. His brows pull together, eyes narrowing, and he opens his mouth to tell Hux where he can stuff his accusations when 

**_S L A M_ **

The front door crashes closed, hurled as if by some hurricane force, so hard it reverberates through the floor, echoes booming down the stairs where those doors too have slammed shut, all at once. Impossibly all at once. The temperature surrounding both men has dropped perhaps twenty degrees in mere seconds, and then suddenly the inconceivable juxtaposition of the chairs on the table is tilting, falling in a sort of surreal slow motion.

Kylo acts quickly, impulsively, grabbing Hux’s arm hard enough to bruise, jerking him out of the way an instant before the entire crumbling tower collapses on the floor where he'd been standing. He holds onto Hux, too stunned to let go, like their proximity is a shield, even though Hux is trembling with a frenetic energy that vibrates through Kylo’s palm. The wine glasses stacked on the counter wobble, half of them shattering on the floor with the remnants of splattered red jam and dented cans.

Only as it fades does Kylo hear the sound, like a muffled and distant siren, dwindling until the room is so quiet, he can hear his pulse pounding against the skin of his throat.

Hux can barely breathe. Kylo’s hand feels like a brand around his arm, so warm in the cold air around them. It’s so cold, in fact, that he can see his breath. Mildly, he realizes that he is shaking, shivering. With cold, with fear -- Hux doesn’t know. He doesn’t really want to think about it.

Just as Hux takes a breath to say something, to try and bring back some sort of normalcy to the situation, all of the cupboards slam themselves closed simultaneously. The noise is like a gunshot, loud and ear-shattering. It’s the final crowning glory to a moment that Hux cannot believe has truly happened. For a moment, he thinks he may faint, but he manages to pull himself together for long enough to lean on Kylo, his heart trying to climb into his throat. 

“What the  _ fuck _ .” It’s the only thing he can say, the only thing he can think -- he just hopes to god Kylo has an answer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter tags include blood / minor injuries

The mess is everywhere. Glass shards and globs of jam and a plethora of other jarred foods Hux can’t even recognize at this point. It’s a disaster. Three hours later still has both of them on their hands and knees, picking it all up. It also still has Hux’s heart pounding in his ears, loud and erratic.

Largely, they’ve been working in silence. Hux can’t figure out any words, anything reasonable to add to the situation that wouldn’t just make it worse -- so he stays quiet. He lets his heartbeat and the occasional sound of broken glass clinking and scraping against tile work as a soundtrack to the cleaning process. It’s not _bad_ \-- not if he doesn’t think too hard about it, anyway. Cleaning up a mess is one thing; cleaning up an unexplained and unmitigated disaster that he witnessed first hand is another.

Cautiously, he picks up a jagged shard of glass from what he can tell is -- _was_ \-- one of his favorite wine glasses. They were a set that his parents had gotten as a wedding present. He knows that he should be wearing gloves for all of this, but he had given the one pair to Kylo so that he could deal with the sticker of messes. Largely, Hux had been fine with the glass at a slow and steady pace. As long as he was careful, he wasn’t in much of a danger from the broken shards.

Hux’s voice breaks through the silence of the room, holding the shard of the glass between his fingers. “This was one of my favorites, you know. Waterford crystal. The _Donegal_ pattern -- they don’t make it any-- _shit_.”

Hux drops the glass on the floor with a hiss. It shatters noisily into more pieces. Hux watches the blood well up on the cut on his finger until it rolls over, running down his finger until it drips onto the ground. “Of course,” he mutters. Before he can analyze it too much, he presses his finger to his chest, against his shirt to stop the bleeding. “Of course this would happen.” He should have been more careful, more cautious.

Hux feels the frustration well up inside him, threatening to spill over just like the blood from the cut. He’s suddenly so tired -- exhausted. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, isn’t even sure that he wants to.

Kylo glances up from the business of carefully scraping preserves from the tile just in time to see Hux slice his finger with the shard of glass he’s holding. Kylo winces in sympathy, tossing the paper towel in the trash by his side. His first, overwhelming instinct is to reach out and take Hux’s hand, to wipe the blood away and wrap up the wound. It filters through the miasma of negative feelings this morning has dredged up that Hux inspires a good bit of Kylo’s protective nature, made long dormant by the weighty impact of his not-so-distant past.

His fingers actually twitch, muscles responding of their own volition, but instead he says: “Are you ok? Do you want me to get you a band-aid or something?” Not that Kylo knows where Hux keeps his first aid kit, or if he even has one.

Normally, Hux would wave Kylo off, refuse the help, and get up and take care of everything himself. But he’s too tired, too _done_. Against every instinct he has, Hux hears himself saying: “The band-aids are in the upstairs bathroom in the medicine closet. Neosporin, too.”

With that, Hux sits back on his heels and waits for Kylo to go upstairs and return with the supplies. Meanwhile, he numbly watches his blood seep into his shirt. He feels emotionally overwhelmed, and he doesn’t even know why. It’s not that bad an injury. He can always buy new wine glasses, even if they won’t be the same, sentimental value be damned. His parents are no longer alive -- Hux doesn’t need the glasses when he has the house as a reminder.

Yet still, it smarts.

Kylo is actually surprised that Hux agrees to his offer, though he nods and stands up, trying not to grimace at the way his knee protests from having been kneeling on the floor so long. He clenches his teeth against the pain until he’s beyond the kitchen door, where Hux cannot see him, then he exhales shakily. The toil upstairs is painful, the bones and ligaments complaining, and it forces Kylo to think about that night. So much of it is a blank, dark void suitable only for nightmares to lurk, but he remembers the hospital, the blood, and the agony.

He puts the thought aside, knowing it will resurface easily enough, and opens the medicine closet. It’s perfectly organized, with items categorized into small, color-coded plastic storage containers. Kylo smiles at this as he pops one open, finding boxes of band-aids for every type of injury, but then it occurs to him how compromised Hux must feel at this moment - this organized, methodical man is downstairs among the wreckage of his kitchen, frightened and confused. Kylo can still feel the way Hux had trembled against him hours before.

Materials collected, Kylo steps back from the closet, stares at it for a moment, then says aloud to the empty bathroom: “You going to slam this door too?”

He waits, expectant, his stomach tightening and pulse racing at the audacity of taunting whatever plagued -- maybe is still plaguing -- this house. Hux perhaps wishes to believe that there is some natural explanation, some anomaly specific to this space and time, but Kylo feels it in his gut. The _wrongness_.

It doesn’t respond to his ill-advised challenge, and Kylo snorts, closing the door with his elbow. He limps down the stairs again, and finds Hux in the same place on the floor, fine-boned face haggard and dejected. A bright red stain blooms across his shirt where Hux holds the finger against it.

With a muted grunt, Kylo lowers himself into a cross-legged position beside his roommate, clutching several band-aids and the anti-bacterial cream. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, slipping out before he can analyze it.

Hux sighs. “It’s fine,” he says. He should tell Kylo that it’s not his fault, that none of this happened because of him, but he can’t. If Hux holds onto the fact that this is all somehow Kylo’s doing, it’s a lot easier to swallow. Even if Kylo didn’t directly make it happen -- it’s easier to somehow tie this to Kylo.

Hux takes the cream and the band-aids and dresses his wound. When finished, he stops to admire the blood on his shirt. “ _Shit,_ ” he says, pulling it away from his chest. It’s pretty bad -- probably something that might warrant stitches, but he’s not about to go to the hospital. Not after today. Not after how exhausted he is. It’ll stop bleeding eventually -- it’s starting to, even now.

“Thank you,” Hux manages, hazarding a glimpse up at Kylo -- and is a little shocked by what he sees. Kylo looks wrecked. He looks more exhausted than Hux feels, looks like he’s barely hanging on by a thread with dark circles under his eyes and a deep frown set in his face. It’s enough to make him want to at least _try_ and mend the bridge between them.

“So, you think the shirt’s ruined?” Hux tries, figuring it’s as good a shot as any.

Kylo sees the nearly imperceptible way Hux’s lips are curved up at one corner, the way his attempt at lightening the mood momentarily clears the clouds from his eyes. Kylo appreciates it, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders draining.

“It might be,” Kylo admits of the shirt. He glances down at the culprit, the broken shard beside Hux’s knee. “This hasn’t been a good week for glassware in this house,” he sighs. “Plastic cups, you think? We could get you a Darth Vader travel mug too…”

His eyes flick back to Hux and he bites his bottom lip.

The laugh that escapes Hux’s throat is dry, rough, mangled -- but a laugh nonetheless. For a brief second, his shoulders feel lighter, his worries and stresses feel eased, if only slightly. “Maybe a good idea.” He sighs, tugging at his shirt.

“I think I want to change before we get back to this. It seems a bit macabre, doing this while bloodstained.”

“Ok,” Kylo says, gripping one of the now upright chairs to lever himself up. “Listen, I’ll clean up the rest of this. You shouldn’t do anything else with that hand. Get some rest or something.” He braces for Hux’s refusal, hopes that it honestly isn’t forthcoming. He cannot shake the feeling that somehow all of this is his fault, in some convoluted way. Of course, it could be that Hux is lying, saying that this had never happened before Kylo moved in, but what would the purpose of that be? Some sadistic joke? No. Kylo had felt Hux’s fear; there is an atmosphere of it still, lying like a nebulous fog around them.

Hux frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of Kylo having to clean up after him, doesn’t like the idea of someone telling him what he can and cannot do. But -- he’s also tired. He doesn’t _want_ to clean up any more of his kitchen, any more shards of his past.

Also, if Hux lets him clean up, he can pretend he’s doing it because he feels like Kylo is responsible. For a moment, he will be able to pretend that everything is fine.

So Hux says, “okay,” in a voice softer than he likely wants, and pushes himself up from the floor to disappear upstairs.

Kylo watches him go, unable to help noticing the way his shoulders droop, the lines of his slender form accented by the t-shirt. The sweater Hux had been wearing earlier that morning - the one he’d taken off to keep from ruining - is hanging across the back of the chair Kylo is supporting himself against. Absently, Kylo extends his thumb, brushes it across the soft cashmere.

When Hux has disappeared up the stairs, Kylo snaps into focus. He spends the next several hours working diligently to return the kitchen back to its former immaculate condition. For some reason, Hux’s shattered dishes make him especially morose, as though Kylo himself has personally robbed Hux of some tie to his departed family. It makes him think of his father, and he sits for a time hazily holding the flute of a wineglass, lost in a place between memory and repression - a sort of slogging limbo.

The last thing he does is take out the trash, glancing over his shoulder at the now dark jack-o-lantern and feeling the sense of _lost magic_ heavy in his heart. It’s odd, he thinks, that what has happened here strikes him more as disappointing than frightening. He’s no stranger to paranormal events; he’s convinced that he has seen the ghost of his grandfather on more than one occasion, which fact only his father ever questioned. He called it _Skywalker Screwy_ , and always brought it up when any of them acted outside his comfort zone.

Kylo closes his eyes briefly after he drops the bag in the trash and lets the lid fall shut. His eyelids feel rough, too thin, and a chill wind ruffles his loose hair, tickling his neck. He smells rain, moisture laden air a soft caress against his cheeks. Part of him longs for a storm, a violent cataclysm of energy to rip away the lingering traces of _wrongness_. He’s always felt clean after a heavy rain, as though he’s somehow part of the earth.

At last, he trudges back to the house, and passing through the doorway which had been welcoming a few days before now feels like shouldering some heavy burden. He imagines Hux has gone to sleep, and while he would like to do the same, a part of him feels as though he should remain vigilant on Hux’s behalf.

Instead, he brews a pot of coffee. He’d bought a gourmet brand, which isn’t his habit, but a part of him had assumed that Hux was particular about this kind of thing, and he’d wanted to have something to share. He watches it brew from a chair at the table, resting his abused knee, startling when something bumps against his leg. Looking down, he sees Millicent, who peers up at him with eyes almost the same perfect sea green as Hux’s. She blinks, and Kylo scoots back enough to tap his leg and invite her up. Surprisingly, she takes the offer, and it’s the first comfort he’s had all day.

A few minutes later, after Millicent has wormed her way into a comfortable position across Kylo’s lap, the soft pad of footsteps on the stairs announces Hux’s reappearance. He’s dressed in a threadbare athletic tee from Georgetown University and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. The comfortable clothes are a way of steadying himself, asserting his own dominance in his head again.

He takes a moment to look around the kitchen, admiring Kylo’s progress. “It looks good, thank you.” And it does -- like a complete disaster hadn’t hit the kitchen hours previous. Hux means the words, truthfully, even if they come out soft and sleep tired.

Hux runs a hand through sleep-messed hair, looking and feeling sheepish. “I’m sorry -- I didn’t mean to leave you down here. I laid down for a moment and...I must have dozed off.” He had passed out, more like. Unconsciousness had found him and dragged him under. He had only just woken up and decided to venture back downstairs to see if Kylo was still awake.

“Oh --” Hux says, finally catching the scent of brewing coffee. “ _Coffee,_ ” he says with a hum, like it is salvation. “Did any of the mugs survive?”

Kylo tears his eyes away from how the threadbare shirt picks out all the graceful lines and planes of Hux’s lean body, and swallows. “Um. Yeah. Seems like our … friend… is more interested in trashing your stemware.”

Hux looks so _fucking_ alluring this way, face pink from sleep, hair tousled, comfortable and familiar. Kylo feels, at this moment in time, like they’ve lived in this house together for years, and that he should feel fine with reaching out and pulling Hux down into his lap and …

Kylo clears his throat. “So… yeah,” he says, stupidly, as though Hux is listening in to his mental static.

Hux’s heart pounds whenever he tries to think of the events that took place in the kitchen, at the idea that Kylo acknowledges it all enough to deem whatever it is a _friend_ \-- like it’s real, like it’s there. Hux wants to ignore it, to pretend it doesn’t exist until it goes away.

“Sounds like it’s almost done,” Hux says, listening to the familiar sounds of his coffee maker.

His eye catches on Kylo’s lap -- where Millicent is currently lounging. “Oh,” he laughs, taking a step closer and crouching down slightly. Without much thought, he reaches to say hello to her, not thinking too much about how close it puts him to Kylo. It’s only when he realizes he’s practically kneeling at Kylo’s feet to look up at those doe-like eyes, how close he is. “She -- seems to like you.”

She seems fine, unfussed, despite their recent run-in with horror. It’s comforting for Hux to see her so at ease, as well as accepting of his new housemate.

Kylo gazes down at Hux for a long moment without responding, mind addled with both lack of sleep and what is now an undeniable, inopportune attraction to his roommate. It feels as though they’ve faced a natural disaster alongside each other, and formed a bond of necessity.

Shoving the thought aside, as there is doubtfully any point to it, Kylo focuses instead on the ginger cat curled in his lap. He scratches her gently behind the ears.

“How’s your hand?” he asks Hux, concerned that perhaps more than just a band-aid had been in order given the depth of the wound.

Hux raises his injured hand, to both inspect it himself and to show Kylo. There are multiple band-aids covering the gash on his hand, but it stopped bleeding before he had gone to sleep. Now, it just hurts -- aching and also annoying, just like the fatigue that hangs over him.

“It’s fine. Don’t think it’ll need stitches.”

Hux can’t help but smile at the image of Kylo scratching Millicent behind the ears with her eyes closed happily. He can practically hear the purr echoing in the quiet kitchen. “Coffee’s done.” So Hux gets them both a mug and sits down at the table next to Kylo. It’s strange, sitting in chairs that had, hours before, been stacked so precariously, so horrifically -- but he refuses to let his fear take over his life.

“Thank you. For the coffee, and for cleaning up.”

Kylo accepts the coffee, murmuring a soft _thanks_ . Blowing across the top, he takes a sip, eyes lidding in appreciation of the strong flavor. Outside, the first peal of thunder echoes in a rolling _boom_ , rattling the windows. Kylo flinches, then forces himself to relax. He sees Hux appear to do the same, and he wonders how either of them will sleep tonight.

While Kylo is not an expert on paranormal events, in any respect, it doesn’t take a scientific understanding of such phenomenon to surmise that things seem to have escalated rather quickly. Glasses falling off a shelf, doors opening, even the doorbell - all that feels harmless, a nuisance merely, compared to the abject malevolence of the destruction they’d seen this morning.  Whatever is here, whether Hux wishes to acknowledge it or not, intends to sow fear. But for what purpose?

Kylo looks at Hux, who is staring into his steaming coffee mug, shoulders slumped. “So you said that … nothing like this has ever happened here. Before.” He hates the way it comes across like he’s doubting Hux, but perhaps, skeptical as he seems to be, Hux has just explained oddities away in the past. Things that might become clearer now, in this irrefutably glaring light.

Hux looks up from getting lost in the steam of his coffee mug. “No, nothing like this has ever happened here before.” His house has occasionally creeked or settled, just like any other house of its era -- but absolutely _nothing_ like this. “Not even one slammed door, even on windy days.” All in all, it’s been an entirely normal house. He’s never before thought to be grateful for that -- now, he only wishes he could go back to that.

Hux squints. “Is this --” He stops himself, sighing, before taking a small sip of too-warm coffee. He feels ridiculous, even thinking to mention the next thing he wants to say, but it’s necessary. Absolutely necessary. “Is this the first time something like this has happened to you?”

It’s a weighted question. Honestly, Kylo has been expecting it, ever since the insinuations that things in the house had gone drastically sideways only after Kylo’s arrival. That doesn’t mean he’s prepared for it, however. Part of him considers lying; he’s practiced at it, for it had been made clear to him as a child that even if perhaps some of his family believed him, it was not the sort of thing that should be mentioned casually and to just anyone.

He actually opens his mouth to deny any familiarity with such phenomenon, when something occurs to him that is unexpected. He thinks of the future, and of potential, and realizes that if he lies to Hux now, if there is ever something more for them down the road than just sharing a roof and four walls, then he’ll have to retract his falsehoods. He’ll have to admit to Hux that it all started with dishonesty.

“I … not like this,” he admits, voice sounding small. Outside, the first drops of rain begin to pepper the glass. “I’ve had some … experiences I guess.” He hopes, desperately, that Hux will just nod and dismiss it, but has a sinking feeling he won’t be so lucky.

Hux frowns, letting the words sink in as he continues sipping at his coffee. It’s not really what he wants to hear -- he doesn’t _believe_ in these sorts of things. He wants, with all his heart, to not believe Kylo. To deny deny deny. But -- there is a solid, unmovable part of him, deep in his chest, that knows that he must believe.

It’s terrifying.

But Hux isn’t about to let the answer fade into black. Instead, he sets the cup of coffee down, puts his elbows on the table, and settles in. “Elaborate,” he says. “I want to know about these -- experiences.” If he’s doing this, he is going _all in_.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s well past two in the morning when Hux finds himself sitting in his own darkened room, legs outstretched on the bed. Kylo is there too, sitting on the end of Hux’s bed, a silent sentry. It was never spoken, the offer to sit by him while trying to fall asleep -- it had simply just happened. Hux had trudged up the stairs with Kylo as a shadow behind him, late night coffee still warm and comforting in his stomach. He had turned to Kylo before moving toward his room, and Kylo had simply given him a _look_. Of comfort. Of camaraderie. Of hope, perhaps. And so Hux had simply nodded, and led the way to his room.

Kylo is close enough that Hux could reach out and push his foot to Kylo’s muscular thigh, but he doesn’t need to. He can already feel the warmth from him, can already appreciate the comfort that another body in his space brings. He is glad for the company, and also glad he never had to voice his concerns.

Hux feels vulnerable, soft and bruised, but he’s not about to admit that.

He feels voyeuristic, watching in the darkness as Kylo plays with the fringe on one of Hux’s tartan blankets. Neither of them are sleeping, or even pretending to, but neither of them has spoken either. Each too scared to break the careful silence.

Kylo had told Hux many things over coffee, enough to keep Hux thinking about it much later. There are only two possibilities: either Kylo believes enough in these theories of his to deem him insane, or a large wrench that has just been thrown into Hux’s whole world view and all of this _exists_. Hux isn’t really sure which option he prefers.

Ever since Kylo was young, he claims to have had _experiences_. Hux had laughed at the idea, only to find that Kylo had not been joking and had continued with a somber expression on his face. The man claims that his belongings disappear from his room, only to reappear later. Kylo could, simply, be a forgetful person. Hux isn’t about to base an entire shift in thinking to the possibility that his new housemate has early onset Alzheimer's, or something akin to that.

But Kylo’s stories didn’t stop there.

Kylo asserted that he has extremely vivid dreams, sometimes in which his grandfather speaks to him. But -- it’s not that. Vivid dreams and dreaming of deceased relatives is normal, or at least on the scale of. But Kylo had said that often times his grandfather would tell him of events that would happen -- and then, later, days or sometimes even months, those foretold events would come to pass. Hux hadn’t been able to stop the shiver from running down his spine.

But of course, that’s not it. Kylo apparently sees lights, hears voices. Sometimes, he even sees full-body apparitions.

And while Kylo says that none of it has ever caused him any harm, Hux isn’t at all comforted.

While Hux is still on the fence about the validity of it, the possibility of Kylo’s assertions being truth isn’t any less terrifying.

Hux lets out a breath and sinks down further on the bed, curling up on his side. His toes push against Kylo’s thigh for a moment before he shifts and rearranges himself to give Kylo more room. After all, Hux doesn’t want him to think he’s trying to push him off the bed and out the room -- he’s not quite yet ready to be truly alone.

With thoughts of spirits, lights, and dream-like prophecies in his head, Hux eventually drifts into a light sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux snaps awake again after what seems like mere minutes, neck stiff from the awkward angle he’s slumped in, not feeling rested at all. His throat constricts when he realizes that he’s alone, even though of course he’s alone. Kylo would have left and gone to bed after Hux fell asleep.

He cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong, however. His door is standing open, but this time, that is by design. He and Kylo had discussed at the table earlier that night that if whatever presence may or may not be in this house wishes doors to be open, they’ll beat it at its own game - at least for a little while.

Hux pushes the blankets aside and crosses the room warily, half expecting the door to slam shut before he reaches it, but nothing happens. He can still hear the storm that had been treatening earlier, wind whipping in the eaves and rain drumming against the roof, drowning out the sound of his footfalls as he creeps cautiously down the hall.

Kylo’s door, too, is open. It’s especially dark within, as the moon is blotted out by cloud-cover, and there is a sound that Hux doesn’t place at first. Then he realizes it’s Kylo’s voice, and thinks his roommate is speaking to him, so he takes a step into the room.

“Kylo?” he whispers.

There is no response, so Hux moves closer. Kylo is only an indistinct mound beneath the blankets, twitching, turning from side to side. Hux realizes that while Kylo is speaking, it is not to Hux. He is muttering _no, stop, no, no, no._

A pang of sympathy pricks at Hux, realizing Kylo is having a nightmare. He cannot help but imagine what sordid event haunts his dreams, but it’s clearly one Kylo wishes to escape. Before he thinks better of startling him, Hux reaches out and brushes Kylo’s shoulder gently, saying his name. When that doesn’t work, Hux says it louder.

Kylo’s eyes fly open, feral and frightened and lined with pain, framed by wild dark hair. He sits up, blinking.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in a sleep raspy voice.

It’s been a long night. Hux is exhausted, anxious, and concerned. He has no energy left to obfuscate the truth, to try and protect his own feelings or intentions. He only came in here because he was curious, that’s all. And he happened to find Kylo in a state of distress.

Hux pushes the sleep-raspy voice of Kylo out of his head, as best as he can. He doesn’t need that now. “--I was concerned.” Hux says, because it’s the easiest answer, as it is also the most truthful. He follows with, “You sounded distressed.”

He looks it, too. It’s not easy to catalogue details in the half darkness in Kylo’s room. He is illuminated by the light seeping in from Hux’s room at the end of the hallway -- his features are faint, but his eyes look sunken and tired, and his hair is plastered to his face with sweat.

“Are you alright?” The words are out before Hux can even contemplate the fact that he thought them.

Kylo stares at Hux, blinking, trying to put the pieces of this moment together into some picture that makes sense. He’s bleary from sleep, had woken with a thrill of alarm mixed heavily with lingering anxiety and the draining dregs of that oh-so-familiar dream.

 _Ah,_  he thinks. He’d been dreaming, again, caught in that car with his father, seeing headlights rushing toward them, unable to stop...he had not previously been aware that he speaks in his sleep, but he must.

Kylo is too tired, too raw to feel embarrassed. Hux’s face is draped in shadow, but Kylo can see his brows pinched with concern.

“I’m ok,” he tells Hux, meaning only that he’s used to this now. “Did I wake you up?”

Hux pauses before he speaks, perching down on the edge of Kylo’s bed before he can think better of it. “No, I don’t believe so,” he says, because he considers it true. He’s not sure why he woke up, or how long he had been sleeping for, or how long before Kylo had left him -- but it doesn’t really matter.

Hux swallows, and he can hear the loud click of it in the silence of the room. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” He’s going out on a limb here, but it feels overwhelmingly like the right thing to do. “I could sit with you, until you do -- if you’d like.” Just like Kylo had done for him.

Kylo is entirely surprised by the gesture, slightly nervous, but he can’t deny that he _does_ want that. If he had not sat in Hux’s room earlier for several hours, just hoping that his presence alone would act as some bulwark against the unexplained, he might have told Hux no. But now, it’s a fair trade. Isn’t it?

It isn’t even that he’s afraid, or that he can’t soldier through this alone, like he always has; he doesn’t want to push Hux away. That, for him, is something new.

“You can stay,” he tells Hux softly. Kylo shifts over, making more room on the bed. The caress of air against his skin reminds him that he’s wearing only pajama pants, and he pulls the blanket up in a display of modesty more for Hux’s sake than his own. He watches Hux while nestling back into the pillows, more quickly at ease after his nightmares than he can ever recall.

Hux settles in. He waits for long moments before shifting to truly make himself comfortable. It seems like ages pass in the darkness before Kylo’s breathing evens out and deepens into the folds of slumber. He sounds less tense, even now, with Hux’s presence watching over him. Hux knows that he should leave, knows that he should abscond from this empty place where Kylo is sleeping. He should get up, fold the blankets over his housemate and abandon whatever closeness that feels like it’s growing in between them. Hux knows that it’s only an illusion, brought on by the night and the stress and the fatigue.

And yet, he cannot tear himself from Kylo’s side.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux does not know why he wakes, and yet he does. It is a nauseatingly sudden sensation, being ripped from the soft and gentle hold of sleep, being thrust into consciousness in such a way.

It takes Hux a moment to remember where he is, to comprehend why his neck and body feel twisted and achey. It takes a moment, but it comes easily like realizing a dream: he must have fallen asleep to the rhythmic sounds of Kylo’s breath -- he can still hear it now, steady and comforting in the background.

It’s been a long time since Hux fell asleep next to anyone.

It doesn’t matter that he’s curled up in an uncomfortable position with Kylo to his front, it still counts. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should have left. In fact -- he should leave now, before he leeches any more of Kylo’s heat. Before he turns over and makes himself comfortable.

Hux pushes himself up, blinking blearily into the darkened room -- and that’s when he sees it.

His heart drops in his chest, and for a moment, the ocean is over him -- deafening and terrifying and pulling him under.

There is a figure standing at the end of the bed.

It is dark, undefined -- and yet Hux knows instinctively that it is _old_. Ominous. Twisted. It is a silhouette in the grey of the room, standing stock still and statuesque. Hux cannot see its face, and yet he knows that it is staring, intently, directly at him.

His heart rabbits in his chest, threatening to jump straight out his throat. Overwhelmingly, he feels the temperature drop and he can taste the sulphur in his mouth.

Hux wants to pull the blankets over his head like he did as a child, to tremble in his own space until the thing goes away.

Instead, he fumbles for Kylo in the darkness. He refuses to break eye-contact, or whatever it is that he’s holding, with the figure at the end of the bed.

“ _Wake up_ ,” he hisses, fingers clutching and pulling at any part of Kylo he can reach -- blankets, skin, hair -- anything.

He’s never felt quite so afraid in his life.

Kylo is wrenched from sleep with a jolt, feeling hands on him, not understanding. Belatedly, he realizes through the flood of adrenaline that Hux is still here, that he’s pawing at his back, his arm, hand colliding with the side of his face. Kylo thinks for a moment that he’s woken Hux up again with yet another nightmare, but there is something frantic in the way Hux is clawing at him, and it sets off a bloom of panic in his chest. He sits up, impulsively snagging the hand drumming against his shoulder. It’s trembling badly, and that adds to Kylo’s panic.

Lightning flashes outside, the storm still in full effect, and it illuminates Hux’s wan face, his gaping mouth, his huge, terrified eyes. They aren’t looking at Kylo.

Turning his head slowly, Hux’s fingernails digging into his wrist, Kylo faces the end of the bed. The figure there is humanlike, though insubstantial, like a shadow upon a shadow. And it’s familiar. The shape of it, rounded at the edges, too tall with overlong fingers. Kylo’s fear is replaced rapidly with a red-hot indignation, and he gropes blindly for the first thing that comes to hand.

The pillow he’d been sleeping on moments before hurtles across the room, passing through the figure, which disperses like a rock splashing through a still reflection. The chill which Kylo hadn’t noticed upon waking begins to recede, the temperature climbing. Hux, however, is still shaking.

Kylo reaches over him, flicks on the bedside lamp, and does the first natural thing that occurs. Peeling himself from Hux’s iron grip, he maneuvers his arm around Hux’s back and tugs his frightened housemate against him.

“It’s ok,” he says, lamely. “It’s gone.” He wants to add a stream of other placating facts, such as _that’s not the first time I’ve seen that one,_ and _it’s really been around since I was a kid and never bothered me_ , except he has a feeling that that will do nothing to soothe Hux.

Hux feels a bit less terrified with Kylo awake, though he can still hear the sound of his breaths echoing in the quiet of the room, so loud. Any other time, he would be ashamed of himself. Now, he just digs his fingers a little harder, back into Kylo’s arm where it is around him, feeling his warmth, feeling his _life_.

For a moment, he does nothing. Hux simply stares at the end of the bed where the thing had been, at the absence of it.

 _What the fuck was that_ , he thinks, but he cannot bring himself to voice the words, yet. It’s too real, too tender.

“Ow,” he says instead, his hand protesting at the way he’s clutching at Kylo’s arm. He takes it away, lets it fall into his lap, focuses on the warmth of Kylo’s chest pressing against his back. They’re so close, and Hux is so glad for it, for the steady warmth of Kylo behind him.

It’s a long beat before Hux says anything again, but when he does, all that comes out is: “Did you just throw a _pillow_ at it?” He cannot bring himself to say _ghost_ or _demon_ \-- but it’s what he means.

Kylo winds his arm more tightly around Hux’s chest, bowing his head against Hux’s shoulder in a rumbling laugh half mad with exhaustion and strain. “I … guess I did, yeah. Worked, didn’t it?” He can feel Hux’s fluttering heartbeat, has no desire to let go of him.

It’s strange, having Kylo so close. Hux hasn’t been close to another person like this in years. He’s being _held_ for christ’s sake -- it’s dizzying how foreign it feels. But Hux cannot deny the comfort, the safety of the gesture. He keeps his eyes trained on the space at the end of the bed, but eventually relaxes, ever so slightly, into Kylo’s hold. The waves of panic come in stages, but they are ebbing now, quieting like fading ripples on a pond. Kylo helps. He smells warm and safe, spicy and like sweat. He smells familiar, even though he shouldn’t.

Hux should get up, but he already knows that he won’t. There’s no point in pretending, in fooling himself otherwise.

“I take it you’ve seen that thing before.”

Kylo sighs, chest rising and falling against Hux’s back, who has finally stopped trembling. His grip on Kylo’s arm has relaxed somewhat as well, his palm warm, soft. Hux’s hair, where it touches Kylo’s cheek, is like spun silk, and smells like lavender. It’s remarkably easy to focus only on these visceral details, on the fact that Hux has not pulled away from him yet, and to ignore the question he asked.

“Yes,” he breathes instead. “I have.” Kylo tenses for Hux to flee.

“Oh good,” Hux says, but he doesn’t get up to leave. “Of course you have.”

At least it explains some things. At least he can link all of these strange events to Kylo, opposed to them simply manifesting from absolutely nowhere. The thought of that is more terrifying than anything else, honestly.

He stifles a yawn before relaxing a bit. Suddenly, it strikes him how _strange_ this is. He’s practically cuddling with a man he’s barely known a week, who is his tenant, who may also be haunted. It’s ridiculous.

But he has no intention of getting up. He doesn’t ask to stay, doesn’t point out how peculiar this whole situation is -- there’s no point in it. “We are going to talk more about this in the morning.” Hux says, because by god, he wants to know all about it.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s after ten when Kylo pulls into the driveway. He’d worked today, a swing shift, and it’s the first time he’s actually made good money in months. It probably helped that he’d been quick to smile and generally gracious, testament to the mood his morning had left him in.

He and Hux had remained in Kylo’s room, Hux never making a move to disentangle himself from Kylo. They’d talked softly about anything other than what had just happened, with Hux telling him a bit about his family, growing up in the house, and asking Kylo about his college aspirations. These had all seemed like safe topics - easier than _so what about that apparition we just saw_ or _what exactly are we presently doing on this bed together?_

Kylo’s heart is in his throat for a much different reason than fear of the unknown as he unfastens his seatbelt and collects his Wal-Mart bag from the passenger seat. It turns out they’d not left the bed at all, and Kylo had woken up with pale sunlight streaming through the window, his arm around a peacefully sleeping Hux. Kylo can still picture the way Hux’s eyelashes lay translucent against his pale cheeks, and feel the imprint of Hux’s bare foot tucked between Kylo’s calves for warmth.

It could have been awkward when Hux woke up, a flurry of embarrassed sentiment brought on by clarity of mind, but it hadn’t been. Neither one of them had moved for a long time, both conscious, both comfortable.

Kylo unlocks the front door, wondering what it all means, and unable to shake the feeling that he’s _coming home_ tonight, not just arriving somewhere he’s going to stay for a few nights. Despite everything that has happened. He supposes that Hux could still decide that enough is enough, that it’s all Kylo’s fault, and throw him out, but he feels a glimmer of something like hope.

This is partly what has inspired him this evening to try to do something to actually _address_ what is happening to them. It’s hard for him to imagine that the here-to-date innocuous association he’s had with the paranormal has suddenly become violent, and he’s convinced there is something else at play. He wants to believe it. Perhaps, also, whatever being had appeared the night before is here to help, and if they could just communicate with it…

He finds Hux at the kitchen table, with seemingly all the downstairs lights on. Millicent is in his lap, a laptop open in front of him.

“Hi,” Kylo says, trying to suppress a stupid, over-large grin, and mostly failing. “Everything ok?”

Hux can’t lie. He’s been sitting at the kitchen table, every single light possible on, for the last three hours. Before then, he’d been, embarrassingly, at a coffee shop for most of the day. He’d had to get out of the house. Without Kylo there, he felt vulnerable, unprotected.

It doesn’t matter that nothing has happened since he got home. The house has been quiet, dead quiet -- but Hux’s nerves are still frayed from being on constant guard.

“Everything’s fine.” He says, though he can feel himself relax the second Kylo walks through the door. Now that his housemate is here, Hux feels like he doesn’t have to keep constant vigilance or pay attention to every single noise.

Hux sighs, and decides to go for a bit more truth: “Glad you’re home.” Immediately, he flushes, feeling like he’s said too much, even though it’s true. He doesn’t want Kylo to misconstrue, to jump to conclusions -- even if they may be right. It’s not that he _missed_ Kylo, even though he might have, just a little bit -- but he didn’t like being alone. “Being here alone is --” he sighs, “tough.”

Kylo finds himself examining every micro-expression, looking for some clue as to whether Hux regrets the night before, or this morning. He catches the faint color in Hux’s cheeks when he admits to being glad Kylo is home, and for the moment, that’s enough.

“So, nothing happened today?” He can’t shake the concern he feels at the thought of Hux alone in the house - the same general worry he’d felt all day.

“No, nothing.” Hux says. He’s surprised, too. He’d spent the whole day on edge, on alert. Waiting -- for absolutely nothing.

Kylo sets his bag on the table, dropping his keys beside it, and goes to the refrigerator for a beer. It gives him the excuse to have his back to Hux when he says: “Good. I was worried...about it. About you.” He pretends to take longer than necessary to decide what he’s looking for.

Hux swallows. “Oh.” He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to respond to that, so he just -- doesn’t. It feels so close, so personal. For the moment, Hux is glad that Kylo is rummaging in the fridge -- it gives a nice veil of space for the awkwardness to pass.

When Hux doesn’t respond, Kylo feels his cheeks color slightly, but shakes the feeling away as he grabs a beer, letting the cool air from the refrigerator cool his face as he takes the first sip. Honestly, what had he expected Hux to say? _Oh, I was worried about you too, Kylo, and I missed you!_

Letting the door close, Kylo glances warily at the cabinets, the drawers, wondering if perhaps he really is the trigger. He’s been gone all day, and everything, according to Hux, has been fine. Now that he’s home, if the activity starts up again … doesn’t that prove something?

He sinks into the chair across from Hux, willing that not to be the case. Producing a box from the plastic sack, he sets it between them, turning it so Hux can read the label.

“I thought maybe this might help,” he says, suppressing the nagging feeling that this is a dangerous path to tread.

Hux’s eyes narrow the second Kylo pulls the object from the plastic bag. He’s seen one of these boxes before, doesn’t even need to read the label to know what it is.

“A o _uija board_?” He cannot keep the skepticism out of his voice. “This is for kids, Kylo. It’s just a parlor trick.” Hux ignores the goosebumps that threaten to creep down his arms, the hair that sticks up on the back of his neck.

Kylo tries to keep the look of disappointment off his face. He had thought Hux would be beyond skepticism at this point, and it really is the only thing he can think of that might, possibly, help.

“Maybe…” he agrees, to placate Hux. “But we could try it?”

Hux tries to ignore the feeling of guilt that washes over him, cold, at the look of betrayal on Kylo’s face. It’s not his fault that Kylo is easily swayed by the easy promise of children’s games. It’s just a trick, a ruse -- they’ll play it, and Kylo will see, and then Hux will no longer feel bad about his judgement.

“Alright,” he says.

Hux also tries to not feel better when the light returns to Kylo’s face. He barely knows this man, despite the strange night they spent together in the darkness; he shouldn’t tie his own emotions so closely to Kylo’s.

“How do we do this?” Hux asks, pulling the box closer to him to give it a closer look. “ _The Mystical Oracle_ ,” he reads with a frown. “Will the Mystical Oracle be able to illuminate things for us?”

Kylo makes a low _hmm_ sound, and tries to recall what he knows of these devices. His mother had expressly sworn him off the things as a youth, which rarely stopped Kylo from doing what he wanted. It simply hadn’t interested him in those days; he prefered to ignore the strange and unusual, rather than seek it out.

“I think it’s less about the board itself, and more about … us,” he says. “If we’re willing to allow something to communicate.”

There isn’t much to the packaging - just cellophane and a simple cardboard box. It had been too late after getting off shift to go to any sort of specialty shop for a nicer version, so _Made In China_ has to suffice. Kylo has it open in a few seconds, the white plastic planchette a stark contrast to the faux wood board with its calligraphy lettering.

Kylo lays his arms on the table, touching his fingertips to the planchette.

To Hux, the board looks so cheap and fake. It looks like what it is -- a child’s toy. He takes the planchette from under Kylo’s fingers. He cradles it in his hand and turns it over and over again, getting a feel for it. Plastic and mass-produced as it is, there’s something about it that feels ominous, like there’s a dark cloud gathering behind them, even though the storm from the previous night has passed.  

“So you’re saying it won’t work if I don’t believe?” Hux chuckles, though mirth isn’t really in the noise. “Sounds a lot like religion. I’ve never really been great at that sort of thing.”

He puts the planchette down once more, where Kylo’s hands are resting on the table, but he doesn’t touch it again. “Have you done this before?”

Hux hasn’t. He’s known people who have -- he’s sat in a room with people who messed around with a homemade one, letters written on a piece of paper with a bottlecap as a planchette. But that had been a teenage game, a drunken folly. Nothing had come of it, and he hadn’t hoped for it. It’s -- nothing like this.

“No,” Kylo admits. “But it’s easy enough, I think. I mean, we know there’s something … we saw it. Last night. Both of us.” He glances around the kitchen, as though speaking of it out loud will draw whatever entity from the bedroom to them again. Gooseflesh prickles along his arms, and he rubs it away with friction from his palms.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Kylo adds, hoping he doesn’t sound desperate. He just wants to believe that none of this is his fault. That there was something here in Hux’s house that had just gone unrecognized until now, and that somehow, this cheap device before them would prove that.

Part of Hux wants to pretend that none of this ever happened, that he saw nothing last night, that nothing at all happened in his kitchen. But he knows that he cannot pretend, knows that he cannot forget. Frankly, none of this would have happened if Kylo hadn’t moved in -- but Hux also cannot wish Kylo gone. He’s far too taken with the man, even if they barely know each other.

“I guess it’s better than nothing,” Hux says. “No point in waiting, right?” He screws his courage up and pokes the planchette with two slender, pale fingers.

“Should we read the directions, or do you think we can just -- go ahead?” Hux settles his fingers on the planchette, waiting for Kylo to join him. It’s what he’s seen before, scrounged from a distant memory.

Kylo takes one last bolstering swig of his beer, and then rests his fingertips opposite Hux’s. “I think we can just … ask it what we want to know.”

They both sit there in silence, hands poised over the board, fingers light on the planchette. The clock ticks in the background. Their eyes meet, and Hux raises an eyebrow.

Clearing his throat, Kylo repeats the usual question he’s seen in movies and on TV. “Is there anyone here that wants to communicate with us?”

For a moment, nothing happens, and Kylo sees Hux’s cheek twitch, whether in anticipation or annoyance, he can’t say. Then the planchette swerves jaggedly to Kylo’s right, coming to rest between the letters _P_ and _Q._

Hux frowns, biting down on the skin of his lip. He wants to ask Kylo if he moved the planchette, but he already knows the answer -- Kylo didn’t. But the response isn’t a helpful one, even if it sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

“Is there anyone here?” Hux asks.

The planchette twitches, then begins to move again. It is slow at first, jolting and shuttering as it slides across the board. Hux bites his lip, eyebrows creased in frustration. Instead of settling anywhere, the planchette drags a slow and lazy figure-eight across the board.

Hux clears his throat, and then speaks louder into the quiet of the kitchen. “Is there anyone here?”

The planchette jerks to a stop abruptly near the ‘ _No_ ’, which only causes Hux to groan. “Well that’s just a lie.”

“Who are you?” Kylo asks, voice louder than he intends. From Hux’s lap, Millicent hisses, jumps down, and vanishes through into the living room. Both he and Hux watch her go, and then look at each other.

The planchette shifts again, making the same figure eight, the sweeping movements getting tighter, faster.

They take turns asking questions and each time the planchette offers something incredibly unuseful, never settling on any letter or answer in particular, or it sways back into a figure-eight. Hux gets more and more frustrated, and he can see Kylo getting there too. They just want answers, not to pull teeth to no avail.

Long minutes pass. Time drags on. It feels like an hour, but it couldn’t possibly be.

“What do you want?” Kylo barks suddenly, feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

The frenetic motion stops suddenly, making Kylo jerk his fingers away briefly, before tentatively replacing them. Peering through the clear plastic eye of the device, he sees it’s resting perfectly centered on the letter _B._

Another frown from Hux. It’s not an answer, even if it’s actually on a letter this time, opposed to halfway between, or sitting over a decoration on the board. He clenches his teeth, fingers twitching on the planchette in annoyance.

“ _What_ ,” Hux pauses between words, letting out a fiery breath through his nose, “ _do you want?_ ”

The planchette circles back to the _B._ Then, immediately, it jerks over to the _E_. Then, almost faster than Hux can keep his fingers on the planchette, to the _N._

Kylo’s stomach drops, throat tight. _That has to be a coincidence._ He says nothing to Hux, even though he can see his roommate mouthing the letters to himself in obvious confusion.

Then the planchette picks the same letters out again, sharply, quickly, pausing. Hux opens his mouth to speak, but then the device is moving again, stuttering across the board to slowly pick out a message that leaves Kylo cold to the core of his soul.

**_B E N S O L O I S M I N E_ **

The planchette stops on the _E_ , and Hux’s heart flutters in his chest as he waits to see if there is more -- there isn’t. He blinks, and then suddenly the planchette rockets off the side of the board. It is a decisive movement, final in its feel. The plastic piece lands on it’s side on the table, sedentary and useless. Hux is cold, so cold, as he pulls his hands back, clasping them in front of himself on the table.

He goes over the letters in his head, lips sloping downward into a frown.

“Who the fuck is _Ben Solo?_ ” Hux says.

Kylo says nothing for a long moment, now trying himself to rationalize this, to convince himself that subconsciously, he was the one moving the device. But deep down, he knows better. Looking up at Hux, he feels heavy, lost, afraid.

“Ben Solo is me,” he whispers hoarsely.

And no sooner do the words fall from his lips then every light in the house goes out, plunging them into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Groping blindly through the darkness, blood rushing in his ears like the roar of a freight-train, the copper tang of panic on his tongue. _

Something reaches out from the gloom, digs cold fingers into his arm, nails sharp against flesh. For just one moment, one infinitesimal second, he imagines the abyss has opened up to pull him in, that yawning chasm waiting for him with welcoming oblivion. 

His muscles spasm, he tries to jerk away. 

“Kylo,” a voice hisses. The voice is afraid, not much more than a exhalation. The grip on his arm is desperate, a drowning creature wanting to be pulled from the breaking sea.

“Hux,” Kylo rasps, his own fingers closing on flesh prickled with fear and cold. Kylo can see him now, as pale as a ghost, eyes large and feline, glinting in the light that filters in through the window.

He holds onto his roommate, listening, something in the undercurrent drawing his attention. _There._ Footsteps. _Two, three, four._ Fading up the stairs. Unmistakable.

Hux has never been much of a physically demanding person. He prefers to keep to himself. Never before has he felt such a need to touch and be touched in return as he does now, clinging to Kylo with a death grip. Kylo is warm in the cold darkness around him, a beacon of heat and safety. He cannot see anything, except the faint luminescence of a distant streetlight which seems miles away -- but he can hear the distinct sound of footsteps fading into the distance, up the stairs and away from them.

Hux’s breathing echoes into the kitchen -- deafeningly loud. He can hear Kylo breathing too, and it’s a small comfort, knowing that there is another warm life next to him. 

“Kylo,” Hux says, in response to his own name, feeling the word fill with fear and hope and desperation. He feels like he’s stuck in his very own horror movie. Ludicrously, he thinks that he should maybe have watched more. Maybe then he would know what to do. “Please tell me you have a flashlight,” he pleads.

_ A flashlight,  _ Kylo thinks _. _ Normal people have things like flashlights, tools, dishes. At twenty-nine, perhaps he should be that person. Perhaps he should even have his own house. 

“I don’t,” he admits, feeling as though it’s just one more straw on the back of everything that has gone wrong since he moved in here. “I’ll turn the lights back on.” He stands up, only letting go of Hux’s hand at the last minute. He shuffles blindly down the length of the table, bashes his shin on a chair, shoves it out of the way with a scrape of wood on tile, and gropes for the switch. He casts about for a moment before he grazes it. Kylo flicks it down, back up.

Nothing.

He tries again with the same result. “I think the fuses are blown,” he says. “Where’s your box?” The house is preternaturally quiet now, nothing but the soft ticking of the clock in the living room. 

Dread builds cold in Hux’s stomach, though the question feels like an inevitability. Hux hasn’t watched many horror movies, but he doesn’t have to be a connoisseur to know that they always end up in the basement or the cellar. The answer eats away at him before he says it, because he knows what it means: that they’ll have to go down there to flip the switch. Kylo will probably suggest going alone but -- Hux won’t let him. It would be a bad idea. That, and he doesn’t want to be left alone.

“The fuse box is in the basement,” Hux says. 

Hux pauses and pats down his trousers, coming back with his phone. “There’s a small flashlight on this.” It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing. When he turns it on, a measly sliver of light illuminates the familiar floor tiles to him, painting them in a cold, blue glow.

“Of course it’s in the basement,” Kylo says miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He offers to go himself, but Hux resolutely shakes his head. Truthfully, Kylo is glad for that. 

The basement door, at least, doesn’t creak and swing open in crypt-like fashion, emitting neither bats, nor spiders. The stairs are well-maintained as well, and Hux leads the way down them using the narrow beam of light from his phone. It does nothing to illuminate the cavernous blackness beyond the wooden staircase, and as Kylo creeps down behind him, he has to stop himself from reaching out to somehow hold onto Hux. 

They reach the bottom without event, and Hux shines the light on the back wall, catching the fuse box. There are shadows of stored furniture, some of it draped in white sheets, everything ethereal in the gloom. 

Briefly, Hux wonders what he was doing, draping sheets over all of the furniture like this, painting his basement into a Renaissance horror story. He doesn’t need any of this stuff anyway -- he’d kept it out of sentimentality. He couldn’t just throw it all away, right? “Could this look any creepier?” He mutters under his breath, pressing close enough to Kylo that their sides brush as they shuffle to the other side of the room.

The basement is quiet, most sound muffled thanks to carpeting and, presumably, all of the fabric around. There’s nothing for them to jump at, but Hux is on edge and wary the entire time. It’s humiliating -- or it would be, if he wasn’t so scared. He’ll allocate some time later, when all of this is over, to feeling terribly embarrassed at how he’s acting.

Despite paranoia, getting to the fuse box is uneventful. It’s getting it open that poses a problem.

“It’s stuck,” Hux says, trying to pry it open with one hand, shining the flashlight on it with the other. He growls, slamming a hand into the box with frustration. “You try,” he says to Kylo.

Hux’s frustration radiates out from him, and Kylo impulsively lifts his hand to Hux’s shoulder, squeezing gently as he guides him aside so the fuse box is clear. It earns him some sort of look, but it’s too gloomy to interpret. 

The lid isn’t exactly stuck - rather, there’s a small catch at the bottom that simply needs to be thumbed aside, and likely Hux has forgotten it’s there in his agitated state. Kylo doesn’t point it out, but has the box open in seconds, examining the switches. They’re all still in the  _ on _ position, so Kylo methodically turns them off and back on until at last there’s a faint hum of electricity and the reassuring glow of artificial light spills out of the kitchen and down the stairs. Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Kylo glances at Hux. Green eyes are still round and filled with nervous shadows, hair in disarray where a trembling hand has passed through it recently. 

“Problem solved,” Kylo says, trying to sound light-hearted, as though the solution to whatever is going on is as simple as throwing a switch.

Hux breathes a sigh of relief. He, too, is comforted by a simple solution to a problem. It’s easy enough to hold onto, anyway. It’s far easier than trying to explain the supernatural away. 

He knows Kylo is looking at him, knows he is an absolute wreck. It’s strange to have someone living with him, who won’t always see him at his most-pristine. It’s -- kind of nice, actually, in a completely unusual way. Maybe it’s just the intimacy of the situation, though. Could be it, Hux tells himself as he brushes against Kylo’s arm when he turns to make his way back to the stairs. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Hux says as Kylo follows him. 

Hux feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, thoroughly less concerned now that he can see. Kylo, too, looks a little less on-edge.

Hux pads up the stairs, Kylo a couple steps behind him, both feeling pleased with themselves and lighter. When all of a sudden --

**_Slam!_ **

The door to the basement slams shut in Hux’s face, just as he’s reaching for the knob. The force of it is so powerful that it reverberates down the steps, into his chest. The lights go out again. He startles, falling back against Kylo’s solid chest behind him on the stairs. Good thing he’s sturdy, or they’d fall all the way back down. Instead, Kylo holds him still and Hux can feel the other man’s heart pounding where he leans against him.

It’s instinctual, the way Kylo’s arm goes around Hux’s waist, steadying him, and it’s needy, the way Kylo continues to cling to him even as the aftershocks of the door slamming shut have faded from the structure beneath them. 

“This is getting old,” Kylo growls in Hux’s ear, low, and Hux makes a high-pitched sound that might be a laugh, an exclamation of fear, or something in between. 

Kylo thinks back to the darkly disturbing message the Ouija board had spelled out:  _ Ben Solo is mine.  _ Were that truly the case, whatever entity that is stalking them seems to be doing a remarkable job of driving them closer together. Perhaps there is more than one, with different agendas? The thought makes him shiver and wrap his arm tighter around Hux, feeling the ragged rise and fall of panicked breathing. 

Carefully, Kylo takes another step up, so he’s on the same level as Hux, not letting go of him, but turning their bodies. Hux shifts willingly, the thin beam from his phone still shining, cast at an awkward angle on the floor below. 

Kylo reaches out with his free hand, grasping the doorknob. It gives at first, and he almost relaxes, feeling it turn and then click, but before he can push it open, Kylo  _ feels _ someone … something … grasp the other side, wrenching it back with such force that metal squeals and burns the palm of his hand. The door cracks against the frame again, sealing shut, and something howls - it’s a cavernous echo, bone-chilling, like a gale-force wind in a cave. Old, angry. The light outside the door grows brighter, blue-tinged and radiating cold.

Kylo jerks his hand away, gripping the stair railing, holding onto Hux, heart a peaked rush in his ears. His muscles tense as though whatever made that horrific sound will come through the door next and fling them both back into the darkness.

Hux shivers against Kylo, feeling equal parts terrified and tremendously annoyed. This  _ thing _ , whatever it is, refuses to leave them alone. It will not let them have a second of peace -- or it will, but only if it can use it to tear them back down again.

Hux growls, fists clenching at his side. It’s easier to hold on to anger with Kylo’s arm around him -- he feels safe, feels protected. The warmth from a man who should be a stranger is oddly comforting.

“Dear  _ god _ ,” Hux says, feeling the emotion well up from in him. “Make it  _ leave _ ,” he orders Kylo, knowing full well that Kylo has no control over this sort of thing.

So, with a spark of courage fueled entirely by anger, Hux leans forward in Kylo’s arms and pounds on the door with his fists. “ _ Leave! _ Leave, you hear me? Get out of my  _ house! _ ”

Kylo flinches, pulls back just noticeably as Hux strains forward, afraid of what might come of this challenge. Outside the door, the light dulls, wavers, and then is interrupted in two points, centered, like feet standing just on the other side, inches from Hux. For the briefest of seconds, Kylo imagines that someone is here to help them, but then something powerful hammers against it, repeating in a terrifying pattern Hux’s exact angry staccato. Mocking them. Hux jerks back so suddenly that Kylo nearly loses his balance. 

Since this began, Kylo has been more irritated and, perhaps, a little fascinated by the experience, but this is the first time he is genuinely terrified. Whatever this is outside the basement door bleeds malevolence that even Kylo cannot deny. The sure knowledge that it wants to  _ harm _  seeps through the thin barrier and into his bones. 

_ “Please make it stop. Someone. Please,”  _ Kylo thinks, only belatedly realizing the words had formed on his lips.

The basement light comes on.

The shadows on the other side of the door vanish.

The door clicks, swings outward slowly.

Beyond, the kitchen is empty. The ouija board is still on the table where they’d left it. Nothing is out of place - no open cabinets or drawers, no upset tableware or chairs. The clock in the living room ticks softly, and the air is pleasantly warm again, bulwark against the early November chill outside. 

Hux swallows. The whole house is quiet enough that he can hear the click of it in his throat, loud in the stairwell. For two seconds, he deliberates, breathing quickly as his heart thunders in his chest. He wants to leave. He wants to never set foot in his kitchen again. There’s nothing to do, no clear path for him to follow. For a brief and utterly dreadful moment, Hux feels  _ lost _ .

Then, he gets over it. He grabs Kylo’s hand and pulls him into the kitchen in a swift movement. The thing is gone for the moment and he’s not waiting around for it to come back.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” Hux grabs his keys from a bowl near the door, all still while holding Kylo’s hand, pulling him along after as he moves quickly through the bottom floor of the house to the living room. Millicent is sitting on the couch, curled up and unphased from the events in the kitchen -- it must have been extremely localized. Hux grabs her, finally dropping Kylo’s hand in favor of holding his cat close to his chest. 

“She is coming with us, and we are leaving.” He doesn’t care where -- just as long as they are somewhere distinctly  _ not here _ . A hotel, maybe. Or maybe even another state.

Kylo is reeling, standing where Hux’s whirlwind had deposited him. His roommate is staring at him expectantly, green eyes begging him to solve this problem. He’d said  _ we  _ are leaving, clearly intending that wherever they go, it is together. Kylo has a dark and nagging suspicion that this is not a localized thing, that it is somehow attached to him, and could very well follow them no matter where they go. 

But he doesn’t say that, because he doesn’t want it to be true.

“We could go to my cousin’s apartment,” he ventures, imagining Rey’s face at finding Kylo, a red-headed stranger, and a cat at her door after midnight. “Or a hotel.”

Hux wants -- he doesn’t know what he wants, other than to just to leave his house for an extended period of time. There are pros and cons to going anywhere, even a restaurant or just sitting in the car in a park.  Hux doesn’t know Kylo’s cousin, but they are the first person he thought of, so they must be a decent choice. A hotel probably isn’t the best bet -- it would just leave them alone and potentially unsafe. 

Normally he’s a man of decisions. Right now, he just wants to close his eyes and pretend none of this is happening. 

So Hux reaches into his pocket, fists his keys, and then thrusts them in Kylo’s direction. “You choose.” He orders, holding Millicent a bit tighter. “Hell” Hux says with a smile, “there’s always Waffle House.”

Tension and fear leave Kylo in a shrill of nervous laughter at the idea of hiding from this over a plate of smothered and covered hashbrowns with Millicent in the booth beside them. Then he immediately worries that he’s being too loud, and glances around the room, up the stairs, as though having reminded this malevolence that he’s still in the house will cause things to start up again. Impenetrable darkness yawns in the upstairs hallway, and Kylo imagines he can see things moving there, invisible fingers waiting to tear at them the moment they venture up. Suddenly, he too wants to be anywhere but here. 

Kylo eyes Hux’s keys, and imagines himself behind the wheel, Hux in the passenger seat, and his stomach turns, blood rushing away from his extremities, turning his fingers to ice. His heart stutters, throat tight, and he swallows past it. 

“I...can you drive?” Kylo’s voice comes out small. “I’m sorry I just …I can tell you how to get to Rey’s apartment from here. I just … sorry.” Kylo’s face feels tight, and he looks for some expression of disgust or anger or disappointment.

The second Kylo starts to feel anxious, Hux feels cold. He can feel it like cold hands around his neck, on his shoulders, trying to pull him down and suffocate him. It is extremely unpleasant. He just wants to get out of the house.

“Fine,” Hux says, keeping the keys in his own hand. “But you have to hold Millie.” He doesn’t want her just roaming the car, getting into the footwell while he’s driving. She’s already on edge, perhaps because they are both so wound up, so jittery. He passes off the cat (her carrier is in the basement, and he's _not_ going back down there), then leads the way outside, waiting for Kylo to follow. Once they are both outside, he locks the door behind them. It doesn’t mean anything, certainly doesn’t mean he’s locking anything in -- but the click of the latch in the lock is comforting all the same. 

“This is -- bloody insane,” Hux grumbles to himself, unlocking the door to his car and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Absolutely and completely.” Not for the first time, he simply cannot believe this is happening to him.

Miraculously, Millicent stays in Kylo’s lap the entire drive, but holding on to her prevents Kylo from taking out his cell phone to text Rey and warn her of their impending arrival. They don’t talk much on the way, Hux gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands and staring straight ahead, mouth set in a hard line. More than once, Kylo opens his mouth to explain why he couldn’t do something so simple for Hux as drive the car, but it doesn’t feel like the time, and he’s afraid it will just sound like an excuse. So he just gives the necessary directions until they pull up outside the little two-story brick duplex, and Kylo lets out a sigh of relief as Hux tucks his car in behind Rey’s neon blue hatchback. 

They sit there for long moment, the car running, and Millicent crawls out of Kylo’s lap and into Hux’s, purring loudly enough that the soft rumble of it fills the car. She seems as grateful to be anywhere but the house as well, and rubs the side of her head indulgently on the steering wheel. 

“I think you’ll like Rey,” Kylo says, which is safe to suggest, because everyone likes his cousin. He realizes he’s making this sound like just some regular introduction, rather than two adults fleeing a haunted house in the middle of the night. “She has a dog. A nice one. Orange and white like Millie.” Kylo picks at the skin around one fingernail, looking at the cat rather than Hux.

It’s cold. Hux shivers, a chill running down his spine. There’s nothing necessarily supernatural about it this time -- it feels normal, just chilly for the season. Both of them had rushed out of the house without coats on, and now Hux is regretting that decision. It’s easier to focus on that, anyway, the stupidity of walking out into November weather without a coat on, than to dwell on what is happening to them. Or, perhaps more accurately, what is happening to Kylo and is happening to Hux only because of proximity. 

It’s easy to pet Millicent, to bury his hands in her warm fur and scratch just the way she likes. It’s comforting, so Hux does it. He wants to ask Kylo a million questions, but the man clearly does not want to talk. So, Hux doesn’t push it -- for now, at least. If he doesn’t get the answers he wants openly from their visit with Kylo’s cousin, he figures he can then _demand_ answers. At this point, he feels a little like he’s earned it.

“Does the dog mind cats?” Hux asks. Millicent herself doesn’t mind dogs -- she’s been known to boss them around, in fact. It’s easier to talk about the mundane than about the horrors haunting them. 

“I don’t think so,” Kylo guesses. 

They both sit in silence for a few more moments until Kylo heaves a tired sigh and says: “Ok,” and opens the door. He waits for Hux to get out, carrying Millie draped against his shoulder, and then leads the way to Rey’s door. He has no idea what he’s going to say to his cousin as he plods heavily up the sidewalk.  _ Hi Rey, I’m having a ghost problem. Can I hide here with my cute roommate?  _

He hesitates on the stoop, the chill November wind gusting through his hair. Raking it out of his eyes with one hand, he presses the doorbell and instantly hears Bee-bee yapping. The sound dopplers through the interior of the apartment and comes to bear on the door, inches away. Perhaps a full minute passes, and then the outside light comes on, bathing them in a soft yellow glow. Locks click, and then the door is tugged open, and Rey is standing there, sleep-rumpled, dark hair a halo around her pale, freckled face. Bee-bee’s nose pokes out around her calf, twitching wildly, snuffling at Kylo.

“Ben?” Rey says, voice as sleepy as she looks, but tone only fond and pleasantly surprised. “Kylo,” she corrects herself quickly, though Hux notices the slip and purses his lips in thought. Rey looks at her cousin, then at his companion -- and cat. “Do -- you want to come in?” She opens the door a bit wider, stepping in front of the dog to keep it inside. “Come on, before Bee-bee makes a run for it.”

Hux doesn’t need to be told twice. He steps into the house, arms still firmly around Millicent. He lingers in the foyer, though, eyes sharp on Kylo and Rey.

“Well, Kylo, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Rey says, pulling her wild hair into a loose bun as she speaks.

_ Friend _ . Kylo turns the word over in his mind. Is Hux even that? There is...or had been… chemistry, of that Kylo is sure, but it could very well have been scoured away in the past few hours. 

“This is Hux,” he tells Rey, flinching as Bee-Bee plants stubby orange and white paws on his leg, vigorously sniffing his jeans. “And Millicent. Listen … I’m sorry to just … show up like this but …” He realizes that he’s getting ahead of himself, leaving out part of the story. “Maybe we should just sit down.”

As he’s saying this, another figure moves out of the hallway behind Rey, rubbing at one eye with his hand. It’s Finn, Rey’s long-time boyfriend, ostensibly who’d taken Kylo’s place as her roommate. There had been a time when Finn would break into a toothy grin every time he saw Kylo, but that expression is replaced now by  _ The Look _ . It’s a thing between concern, lack of trust, and pity. Kylo glances at Hux, hoping that Hux doesn’t read this embarrassing insight into Ben Solo as plainly as Kylo sees it. 

“Dude,” Finn murmurs sleepily, looking them all over dubiously. “It’s what the fuck o’clock. You alright?” 

Before Kylo can respond, Rey intervenes.

She knows Kylo better than to let the conversation continue before they’ve all been properly caffeinated. “Let’s get some coffee, first. Hux, it’s good to meet you. I’m Rey, and this is Finn.” She gestures behind her to her boyfriend. Clearly she knows that whatever is up is important enough to warrant a middle-of-the-night visit. 

“Nice to meet you,” Hux repeats, and follows the three of them, -- Rey, Finn, and Kylo -- into the kitchen. The place is homey and lived-in, and it is tremendously comforting. There’s an air to it that Hux immediately likes, even if the decorations are not quite what he’d choose for his rather modern home. He holds Millicent and watches the pudgy dog bounce around his feet as he walks. Millicent, to her credit, seems completely unconcerned. She knows a threat when she sees one, and a slightly-overweight corgi is not one of them. 

Once in the kitchen, Rey makes coffee while Finn sets out some mugs. Hux perches in front of the fridge, unwilling to leave his back open to any doorways or open spaces. Not after the day he’s had.

While the coffee is brewing, Kylo lays out the basic details, such as who Hux is, and the fact that Kylo lives in Hux’s house now. Rey blessedly doesn’t ask Kylo whether he’s been to see his mother recently; she probably knows the truth, probably talks to Leia more often than her own son does. Strangely, the absence of this inquiry makes Kylo feel measurably more guilty. His hands are curling reflexively in and out of tight fists as he talks, nails making half-moon circles against his palms, when Rey suddenly lays her own palm over them, arresting the motion. Kylo glances up, sees her forehead creased with some unnamed emotion, and in Hux’s arms, Millicent’s fur is on end and she’s wriggling to get down.

Rey puts a cup of coffee in his hands, wedging it in firmly, and then sits down across from him. Kylo takes a deep breath, relaxing, and notices that Millicent seems to calm down at the same time.  _ Animals pick up on human energy _ , he tells himself.  _ Everyone knows that. _

Kylo sips his coffee absently, more as a grounding mechanism, and finishes the tale, ending with the events of this evening in the basement. He watches Finn’s eyes grow round, one brow lifting at first, and then becoming two. Rey’s countenance gradually grows more clouded, until she’s outright frowning at Kylo when he stumbles over the part where the Ouija board had come into play.

Hux watches as Rey literally palms her face, looking displeased. “You  _ didn’t. _ ” She says, sounding both disappointed and also resigned. “You bought and used a Ouija board, Kylo? Oh my god.” She sounds, Hux thinks, a little like she wants to say they had it coming. He thinks that maybe they did. But she stays quiet on that, just lets Kylo finish up that part of the story.

“Sounds to me,” Rey says, “like whatever it is gained power from the board. Figure-eights are never a good sign.”

Hux does not like the sound of that. Millicent doesn’t either -- or more accurately, she dislikes the way Hux reacts. She jumps from his arms onto the kitchen counter and hunches down, watching the strangers around her and then focusing her attention on Bee-bee, who is looking up at her from the floor in curiosity.

Kylo’s cheeks are warm, for the first time genuinely feeling chagrin at his ill conceived attempt to gain clarity in regard to what has been taking place in Hux's house. For a brief period of time, if had almost begun to feel as though Kylo belonged there, but now it seems that something is vastly insistent that he does not. What that is remains to be seen. 

“I'll admit that I perhaps…did not take it as seriously as I should have,” Kylo mutters, hiding his grimace in a long sip of lukewarm coffee. He feels Hux's eyes on him, and imagines them to be sparking with accusation. Hux had trusted him, and it had led to them fleeing in the middle of the night. 

“Do you think maybe we could stay here?” Kylo looks up at Rey, sees Finn’s lips turn down. “Maybe you could come over there tomorrow. Work your Jedi magic.”

Rey gives him a half-smile. "That's now how the Force works, cousin." 

Kylo flashes her a tired grin in return.

Hux hums from his spot at the fridge. He doesn’t want to intrude -- but he also doesn’t want to leave. He was raised with a high regard for manners; he couldn’t possibly invite himself into someone’s house like this...but he’s going to. He attempts to look his most terrified, which honestly is not very difficult. He looks disheveled and fatigued already -- a total and miserable wreck. “We would really appreciate it,” Hux says, speaking for the second time that night. 

He feels like he can speak for both of them, Kylo and himself. And Millicent as well, who has already jumped down from the counter and is inspecting the dog for herself.

Rey sighs, tired and kind. “Of course you can stay. There’s the futon in the living room. If you need towels or extra blankets, they’re in the linen closet. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” She yawns and leans against Finn, who now just looks tired and resigned. “Now, we are going to go back to sleep and I’m not even going to think about this again until the morning.”

Kylo nods, numbly grateful, and Rey and Finn shuffle past. Finn plants a strong hand on Kylo’s shoulder, patting him twice and then squeezing. It’s affectionate and intimidating at once, and reminds Kylo that the people he was once close to don’t entirely trust him not to burn the house down. 

Kylo slides out of his chair before they vanish down the hallway, calling Rey’s name. She pauses, blinking at him, and Kylo takes one long step and envelops her in a long hug. It feels stilted and stiff at first, but then she sighs and relaxes, squeezing Kylo so tightly that his ribs compress and he grunts. How could he have forgotten Rey’s hugs? Had it been that long?

She finally peels away with a wary smile and she and Finn disappear into her room, the door shutting softly behind them. Kylo lets out a deep breath, realizing how incredibly different the energy is here compared to the heavy, oppressive pall hanging over Hux’s house. Glancing at Hux, Kylo feels another stab of guilt, but he’s too tired to address it. 

Focusing instead on the living room, which is separated from the kitchen by an island and three bar stools, Kylo sees that the couch is indeed a futon. The spare bedroom had once been Kylo’s, but upon inspection, it now appears to serve as a home gym. Rifling through the linen closet, he withdraws an armful of blankets, returning to the living room to see Hux sitting on the futon, hands on his knees, shoulders sloped.

“Do you want to take a shower, or something?” Kylo offers, laying the blankets in a chair across from the futon. “I can set the futon up for you. I’ll um..” he glances around the room and chews at his thumbnail briefly. “...sleep in the chair.”

“Not really,” Hux says in regards to the shower. “I’d just like to go to sleep.” Now that everything is sorted and he feels safe, the exhaustion has finally hit him like a train. It has settled into all of his muscles and all Hux wants to do is sleep.

He moves to help Kylo set up the futon. It’s old and well loved, but it looks at least halfway comfortable. He’ll take anything, at this point. There’s something key about the energy here -- it feels safe and light, like there’s no longer something hovering just behind Hux’s shoulders. Perhaps it’s that fact that has him feeling so open, so uncaring. “Don’t be stupid, Kylo.” Hux mutters, helping to fold a blanket over the futon. They’ve fallen asleep next to each other before, so it hardly matters now. Well -- perhaps it  _ should _ , but Hux cannot bring himself to care. Any personal rules he had have gone out the window, replaced by a new and far more important reality. Right now, all he is concerned with is surviving. 

Hux tugs off his sweater and kicks off his trousers and crawls under a cozy, threadbare quilt. It smells old and a little bit like lavender, and he cannot think of anything more comforting. “Don’t you dare sleep in the chair,” Hux says. It should mean something, that he is so willing to sacrifice for Kylo, that he hasn’t yet abandoned him to his fate. The fact that a fondness tugs in Hux’s chest when he thinks of this strange man must mean something -- but he is too tired, too exhausted to even think about it. Maybe, when all of this is over, he will allow himself the indulgence to even consider it. 

Kylo hovers by the futon, eyes on Hux's narrow form huddled beneath the blankets. He's facing away, can't see the conflict on Kylo’s face - the eagerness, the longing, which is all out of place in this circumstance, and feels more like taking advantage of Hux’s vulnerable state. It’s like being offered solace in a storm, though, and Kylo is too weak to refuse it. 

Kylo realizes, only at that moment, that he’s still in his work attire. The outer layers boast that inevitable restaurant smell of fried food and stale sweat, and he thinks briefly of taking a shower, but has nothing clean to change into. Shedding the black button-down, he considers leaving his pants on, but decides to take his cue from Hux and discards those too, leaving him in nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt. He flips the blanket back and eases down onto the futon with extra care, as though he’s trying not to jostle a spring mattress. Tucking a throw pillow under his head, Kylo lays there, stiff, breathing through his nose. His fingers rest between he and Hux on the mattress, hesitant to reach for what he wants, which is Hux’s body against his, warm and solid.

Hux focuses on his breathing as well, steady and measured -- and unfortunately, he finds it not at all calming. When he had last fallen asleep next to Kylo, it had been comfortable. This -- this is not. It feels stilted and awkward, and Hux feels like he can only blame himself. His body is rigid and tense, though he cannot seem to will it to relax, even with the heavy weight on his shoulders lifted. He sighs, unsure what to do.

It takes Millicent appearing, jumping onto the bed and curling her small body up in next to his chest for Hux to decide to act. He doesn’t say anything to warn Kylo, just  _ moves _ . He scooches back on the bed until his back bumps against Kylo’s hands, which are in front of him. He doesn’t stop there, at that small point of contact; Hux continues pressing back until he can truly feel Kylo’s warmth and body, solid against him.

“I would like this,” Hux says, feeling more awkward than he has in years. But he is also certainly more scared than he has been in years, too. He feels like it’s a good justification. “Is this fine?” Even as he asks, Millicent re-settles herself next to Hux, cozying up to him in a comforting way. Here, spooned between Kylo and Millicent, he feels the hesitant touch of safety. 

Kylo’s belly is a knot, heart loud in his ears, but the feeling is exhilarating. He curls his arm around Hux’s waist, merely resting it there hesitantly for a moment, but then Kylo pulls him closer, a low sound of approval in his throat. Eyelids fluttering half closed, Kylo buries his face in Hux’s soft hair, breathing in his clean scent, feeling anchored, as though this simple physical connection creates a forcefield through which nothing frightening can penetrate. 

Molded against Hux, Kylo tries to recall when the last time he touched someone like this had been. This is a level of comfortable intimacy he’d not allowed anyone to offer him in recent memory, certainly not since the accident. 

Kylo squeezes his eyes shut and pushes that image away, concentrating on how warm and real and  _ alive _ Hux is, and on the gentle thrum of Hux’s pulse against his chest. The fact that he’s only known him a few days hardly seems relevant, for it feels like a lifetime ago Kylo had walked up that paved path to Hux’s front door.

Sleep claims him quickly, and it’s in a half dream that Kylo burrows closer, lips grazing the freckled skin of Hux’s neck, hearing him sigh softly. 

* * *

Hux dreams of nothingness. It is strangely comforting, walking through a sea of void. The air is warm around him, a gentle embrace of the darkness. He walks and walks, legs never tiring, feet never finding any change in the terrain. He walks for hours, for days, and for years. He walks until he can feel hands brushing up against him, gentle and soothing and searching. Soft voices call out to him in the darkness, promising safety, security, absolution. They try to warn him, weak fingers trying to grab a hold of his shirt, but their hold slips as he keeps walking.  _ You’re in danger _ , says a voice in his ear. Then another voice. Then, another. Something tugs on his shirt, but he walks on still.

_ Danger! Danger! _

The whispers grow louder, more insistent. The soft pulls against his shirt become more forceful, more resolute. It’s when something grabs him, tugs and  _ pulls _ \-- that Hux wakes up, eyes snapping open into the darkness of an unfamiliar living room.

It takes Hux a moment to realize where he is, that he’s in Kylo’s cousin’s living room. The comforting warmth all around him is Kylo, and the tug against his shirt in his dreams must have been from Kylo fisting fingers into his undershirt. His grip is loose, but unrelenting. Hux doesn’t bother to pull away, to brush away Kylo’s hands from where they are pulling his shirt into wrinkles. He wants nothing to do with being alone right now, and the feeling of Kylo against him is indulgent and wonderful.

The dream slips from his head, no matter how hard he tries to hold onto it, and eventually Hux is drifting slowly toward sleep again, cocooned in the heat and press of another body. Eventually, it pulls him under.

The muted sound of a phone buzzing against a table rouses Hux again, yanking him out of sleep. The sound has him sleepily twisting his body in Kylo’s embrace, sleepily pushing his face into the warmth of Kylo’s neck. The sound is loud and harsh on his ears in the quiet of the room, and he doesn’t want to get up, not yet.

Eventually, the phone ceases vibrating. 

Hux breathes a sigh of relief against warm skin.

Just as Hux thinks the sound is over, the shrill noise of a house phone rings out into the silence of the room. 

Kylo jolts awake, arm tightening around Hux reflexively, trying to make sense of where he is. Sleep muddled, it takes him a moment to realize it’s not his own phone that’s ringing, and it’s easy enough to forget when the sound is arrested mid-trill. Rey must have picked it up in her room. He sighs, pulse returning to normal, lulled back into the drowsy warmth. Still half asleep, his body acting on instinct, he shifts a hand along the curved back beneath his palm, up into the tousled red hair. 

He’s drifting back to sleep when senses well-attuned to minute changes in the atmosphere warn him that they are not alone. 

Turning his head slowly, he sees Rey, standing at the juncture of kitchen and living room, arms limp at her sides and a portable house phone in one hand. She’s staring at the futon and the intertwined forms on it, though she doesn’t seem to truly be seeing them. Nevertheless, Kylo is suddenly fully conscious of their half-clothed state, of the fingers in Hux’s hair, of Hux’s thigh between his legs. 

At that moment, Rey looks at him, and Kylo realizes how pale she is, face drained of blood.  _ White as a sheet _ , the phrase goes. Kylo rolls onto his elbows, trying not to jostle Hux overmuch, keeping one hand connected to him like a battery source.

“Rey?” he asks, brow furrowed. “You ok?” 

Rey is quiet for a moment before she says, simply: “No.”

Hux, embarrassed and concerned, detangles himself from Kylo. He sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, feeling suddenly very young. He hasn’t sat like this in years. Hasn’t felt the need to curl around himself like this, to make himself small. He brushes an arm against Kylo’s, seeking contact.

Rey continues. “That was --” She stops and looks down at the phone in her hand, frowning. “It’s impossible.” When Kylo looks closely, he can see tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. When Hux looks at her, he sees a stranger holding themselves in a statuesque position, grieving. The expression is so familiar -- he’s seen it before on himself, in the mirror. “That was your father. On the phone. It was Han, Ben. It was him -- it’s  _ impossible. _

She finally moves, crossing the living room to the futon, and lets herself fall into Kylo’s arms.

Kylo catches her, numb to her words for a long moment. They don’t want to slip beneath the surface, to become real. Rey is shivering, knees curled up to her chest much like Hux’s are at this moment.

“Rey …” Kylo intones finally, his voice dark but wavering with doubt. “That’s not funny.” 

“You know she wouldn’t make something like that up,” Finn insists, appearing from the hallway and pulling on a hoodie. His face is concerned, drawn, eyes on Rey’s figure where it’s slumped against Kylo.

Kylo does know it; Finn is right. It’s far too cruel of a joke. “What...did he say?”  _ There’s no way. It’s impossible. _

Rey swallows. “He said,  _ Have you seen Ben?  _ I thought I was hearing things at first, that I was just tired and confused, but then he said it again. And again.” Finn comes forward and perches on the edge of the futon, pressing a comforting hand to Rey’s shoulder.

Hux can only stare, can only watch these three people fall apart on the futon in front of him. All of a sudden, he feels like he’s on the outside of the situation, looking in. He’s not part of this family, just an unfortunate bystander. There are too many pieces to the puzzle that he doesn’t understand, too many things that he can’t even grasp and it’s  _ frustrating _ . 

Hux opens his mouth and closes it again, watching Kylo run a comforting hand over Rey’s arm. Kylo looks torn up himself, not in a position to comfort anyone, but he’s clearly trying. Hux knows he has to tread lightly here, but he cannot simply stay quiet -- he has to know.

“Why --?” Hux asks, voice quiet as he turns to Kylo. “Why is that --?” He hopes his lack of words speaks for itself. 

Hurt knifes through Kylo’s stomach, as though Hux’s question calls into sharp relief every second Kylo has tried to push reality away. He looks at Hux, small and pale beside him, and senses Rey and Finn turning equally dour stares on him. Hux blinks, rocks back slightly as though to shrink away, and Kylo reaches out to touch him. Before he can, before Kylo can speak, the  _ buzzzz - clack  _ of his cell phone on the end table startles them all. Finn jumps, and Rey squeezes Kylo’s arm as Kylo’s head snaps around to look at the phone. Every vibration pushes it closer to the edge of the table, and before it can fall from the edge, Kylo leans over and snatches it, heart pounding.

The screen reads  _ Incoming Call - 000-000-0000. _

Kylo stares at it, imagining a sales call, an error, anything. His thumb trembles over the green  _ accept call _ display. “Fuck it,” he mumbles, and presses it, holding it up to his ear.

“Hello?” Kylo realizes that somewhere in all this, he’s found Hux’s hand and is gripping it tightly.

The other end of the line is static, underscored by an atonal hum like a radio dial passing over myriad stations. It’s weird, but not damning, and Kylo lets out a relieved, if shaky breath. He’s pulled the phone away to hang it up when he hears the voice. Slowly lifting it back to his ear, he listens. It seems to come from a long way off, interlaced with the other white noise, but it’s clear enough. 

_ “Come home Ben. Ben….you don’t … come home.” _

It’s Han’s voice. There is no doubt. Kylo can see recognition on Rey’s face as she stares at him, knowing in her gut what Kylo is hearing.

The message repeats itself, just those same words, over and over, until Kylo finally remembers to breathe and forces himself to croak, brokenly:  _ “Dad?”  _

The line goes dead, the screen returning to its red and black background. Kylo stares at it for a long moment, then he hurls it across the room. It slams into the wall, the case splitting off, and it clatters in two pieces to the floor.

Hux pauses before he talks again, considering. Before he opens his mouth, he rests a hand on Kylo’s shoulder. A single, solitary point of contact. There are multiple options here, multiple reasons that a phone call from Kylo’s father could be strange. There are some options Hux doesn’t even want to consider. 

“Kylo,” he says, thumb rubbing a circle on a threadbare shirt. “I need you to tell me why -- why this is so important.” Hux feels lost, and it’s not fair. He wants to understand, wants to have more solid footing. “I want to be able to help, but I can’t do that if I don’t know the full story.”

Kylo’s gaze swings slowly back to Hux, as does. Rey and Finn likewise turn two haunted stares on his hapless roommate. Hux’s eyes are sincere, his touch welcome, but Kylo is cold to his core.

“Well,” Kylo begins, taking a deep breath. “My dad just called. And he’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Kyluxinferno](http://kyluxinferno.tumblr.com) for the super creepy phone call from beyond thing.


	5. Chapter 5

They leave Rey and Finn’s in the late afternoon, and drive to Waffle House because none of them are quite prepared to go straight to the source of … whatever. Hux and Kylo are pressed along side one another, thigh to thigh in a booth seat across from their companions, both of them consuming too much coffee and both of them picking at their food. They discuss mundane things, like recent repairs on Hux’s house, and stories about Millicent, which eventually drives them back into their cars to avoid leaving her to get cold.

More than once on the ride out to the country, Kylo wants to reach across the center console and twine his fingers through Hux’s, to feel that comforting warmth and proximity that Hux has offered over the past few nights. They trade glances in each others’ peripheral vision, neither of them catching the other in a direct look, and neither of them knowing quite what to say, apparently. Eventually, Kylo turns the radio on, dials it to classic rock, and then turns it off again when the first song he hears is _Don’t Fear the Reaper_. He’s had enough thinly veiled messages from the universe for one day. Kylo had promised to tell Hux more about the phone call, but he isn’t ready to talk about it in front of people that had known Han - that makes it too raw.

Hux pulls the car into the driveway, and Rey parks behind them. Millicent is gathered against Kylo’s chest, front feet perched on his shoulder to offer her a view out of the passenger window. She swivels her head as they stop, eyes wide, ears alert. Kylo feels Hux’s eyes on him, but when he looks over at his roommate, Hux is staring at the house, fingers glued to the key ring where it’s still in the ignition. His trepidation is palpable.

Kylo unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door, sliding out carefully in case Millie decides to make a bolt for it. The house looks so normal in the afternoon sunlight; the sky is a washed, pale blue, fluffy white clouds scudding by on a lazy breeze. The pumpkin Kylo had carved a few nights before is still on the front porch, a new and cheerful orange, and the curtains are open, leaving the interior of the house exposed to the light. Behind him, a car door opens and shuts. Bee-bee yaps twice before Finn _shushes_ him.

Hux makes his way slowly to the house, though he refuses to let anything like _fear_ or _anxiety_ show in his shoulders. He feels like general trepidation is fine -- a healthy sort of caution, given what they’ve gone through. He knows Kylo sees it in him, knows it by the way Kylo keeps shooting him worried glances. But he’s _fine_. The stay at Rey’s has helped, if only slightly. Hux’s shoulders feel a little lighter -- and now, he feels at least a bit more ready to face whatever is inside his house.

Hux fits the key in the door and opens it, taking one slow breath before stepping inside. He braces himself for some sort of impact, something paranormal -- but it doesn’t come. Nothing happens. He turns and looks at Kylo, who stepped through the door after him, who merely shrugs. Millicent bounces out of Kylo’s arms and runs off to hide while Rey and Finn filter through the door behind them.

The house, inside, is well-lit by the morning sun. It smells like cinnamon and paper: familiar to Hux. To Hux, it smells like home. With the bustle of three other bodies in it, it feels more comfortable already.

“So,” Hux says, breaking the silence of Rey and Finn looking around, presumably evaluating the place. “What do we do first?”

Rey has a small cedar box in her hands, clutched against her chest, and she glances briefly at Hux when he asks that question. Then her eyes return to surveying the house, and she clears her throat. “I’ll walk around for a little bit. See what I pick up.” Her tone is light, and she flashes Hux an encouraging smile before stepping past them into the kitchen, where she lays the box down on the table.

Finn gives her a concerned look, but lets her go. “So like… you guys actually _saw_ something?” It’s the third time, perhaps, that he’s asked that question.

Standing here in the sun-dappled kitchen, hearing birds chirping through the screen door, Kylo can almost believe that they’d just imagined it. If both he and Hux had not seen the same entity, it would be easy to convince himself that it had been a sleep-addled illusion, a half dream.

“Yeah,” he mutters, slumping down at the table. The Ouija board rests there, not as ominous in the daylight. The basement door remains closed.

Finn sits across from him, and Rey’s footsteps disappear up the stairs. Kylo fights an urge to follow her, and from Finn’s creased brow, it appears her boyfriend has the same thought. Absently, Kylo flicks the brass clasp on the box Rey brought with her, and tips the lid back. Inside are several sticks of aromatic incense, a bundle of sage, packs of dried herbs, and a small metal bowl charred by soot. Kylo picks the sage up, turns it over in his fingers. A door opens upstairs.

Rey appears, padding softly down the stairs. She meanders through the rooms on the ground floor of the house. She doesn’t say anything as she moves past them and opens the door to the basement. Hux, from his position leaning against the wall near the table, jolts forward as if to stop her, unable to help himself. But -- he catches himself before he gets far, before he says anything. Rey is here to help, he reminds himself. She knows what they saw, knows what troubles they had in the basement. When she lets herself into the basement and disappears down the stairs, Hux can only hold his breath.

She reappears a few minutes later, looking no worse for the wear.

“Alright,” Rey says, moving over to the table to gather near her friends. “The energy here is definitely off. I’ll see what I can do about purifying the place.” She spares an apologetic glance to Hux, who hovers on the outskirts, looking uneasy. “You all can sit here while I walk through with the sage, if you want.”

And so Hux pulls up a chair and reluctantly sits, next to Kylo and Finn, while Rey begins moving about the house.

First, Hux has no idea what to expect -- though of course, he has drawn his own conclusions before it had even started. Rey blows him away. Perhaps he expected more pomp, more circumstance -- more of a show than they are given. Instead, Rey is quiet and serene, moving from room to room with grace and poise. It’s not a dance or a performance, but to Hux, who has been thrust into this world and has been given very few footholds, it is. Something about the calm and sure way Rey moves is easy to follow, to draw hope from.

She is serene in her movements, natural. The calm that emanates from her is palpable and comforting. Hux can hear her speaking, when she moves past him from the living room, to the kitchen, to the basement, but he cannot hear the words she is saying. Perhaps it is some sort of prayer, mantra, or request that she is softly chanting with sage in hand, but she gives no clues and he cannot tell.

When she finishes traversing the house, she comes back to the kitchen and sets the sage on the table. She lights the incense and stands in the middle of the kitchen with her eyes closed in quiet concentration. Hux supposes the kitchen _is_ the center of everything, all the activity, after all. The choice was likely calculated. The smell of incense fills the room; it reminds Hux of his younger days, sitting at church with his parents. There is something settling about it, about this whole process.

Soon, Rey is done.

Hux watches, quiet like the rest of them, as she packs up all of her materials. She leaves the sage in a small ramekin and places it on the sill of the kitchen window above the sink. The whole house feels lighter already, Hux thinks -- but he is unwilling to break the silence. He also feels strangely childish in his desire to not ‘jinx’ it by mentioning the weight that feels lifted off his shoulders. It’s silly,  but he yields to that desire anyway and says nothing.

She takes the ouija board from its place on the kitchen counter and stores it in the top shelf of the hall closet.

“All finished,” Rey finally says. While her voice breaks the silence in the room, it is still overwhelmingly welcome, overwhelmingly reassuring.

“Thank you,” Hux says. Kylo nods next to him and bumps their arms together.

They talk for a while, sitting at Hux's kitchen table. Rey is cautious, and keeps looking at Kylo, who won't meet her eyes. Finn seems uneasy in general, but holds her hand and is outwardly optimistic. It's soothing, to a degree, though Hux can't say if it's a solution. He can't stop thinking about the mysterious phone call that no one will talk about. Kylo's father. How everything seems to be  _familiar_ somehow, to this curious family.

 

* * *

 

Kylo stands in the half-open door, watching as Rey’s neon Fiat backs out onto the street a few hours later. He returns her wave, and just as he lifts his hand, a fat snowflake lands on the black sleeve of his sweater. He stares at it in surprise for a long second, then turns his face up to the sky. Another flake settles on his cheek, and Kylo smiles in unabashed delight. It’s been years since he’s seen snow, and there is something about its purity that seems presaged by Rey’s visit: a good omen.

“Hux!” Kylo calls, turning to lean around the door frame. Hux glances up from filling Millie’s water dish, catches his eye, and Kylo adds: “Come look at this!”

Hux braces himself against the lick of cold as he moves toward the door, pulling his sweater sleeves down his arms and over his wrists. The temperature is brisk, but not terrible, and he makes his way to the door without complaint, sticking his head outside with a confused expression. Before he can ask, however, he is greeted by the image of Kylo, arms spread in glee, head turned to the sky, _smiling_ . His wide grin lights up his entire face, and for one single, solitary moment, Hux is floored. He thinks, perhaps, that his heart may have stopped for a moment or skipped over a few beats. Kylo looks radiant and _happy_ and Hux doesn’t quite know what to do about it.

The normalcy of the moment, despite what they have been through, is shocking.

A cold wet drop of something settles on Hux’s nose. It takes Hux more time than it truly should to recognize just _why_ Kylo is so happy. For a moment there, Hux hadn’t even questioned it -- had just been admiring Kylo’s joy. But the answer is obvious, and it pulls him out of his traitorous thoughts. It’s snowing.

Hux lets himself smile, hoping that the cold air is a good excuse for what he knows is a flush on his cheeks. He blinks away a few flurries from his eyelashes.

“It’s a bit early in the season for snow, isn’t it?” Hux says, lingering in the doorway. He knows he’s letting the warmth out of the house, but he’s still in stocking feet.

Kylo turns his face down, cheeks damp from the moisture. He scrubs a sleeve across his face, feeling the grin on his lips. Smiling always tugs at his scar, reminding him uncomfortably of that night, but in this moment, half numb from the cold, it simply feels good. He catches Hux hovering in the doorway, watching Kylo rather than the snow, his pale cheeks burnished a pretty pink by the chill.

The snow is rapidly coating the ground, turning the brownish monotone of late autumn grass white, and Kylo can’t help but feel it’s auspicious. Yes, it’s early in the year for such weather, but it’s as cleansing as the sage and the soft words Rey had spoken in the house.

Kylo’s step is light as he bounds back to the porch, and without thinking about it, he reaches out and grasps Hux’s shoulders, squeezing, and stops just short of pulling him in for a hug. The relief he feels in this moment is palpable, and he wants Hux to share it. He wants for something to just _go right._

“It’s beautiful,” Kylo says, and his hands trail down Hux’s arms, fingers circling his wrists, tickling at Hux’s palms in a half-conscious offer for him to twine their fingers together.

Hux’s heart skips in his chest, thundering so loud in his ears he can barely hear Kylo’s words. All Hux can focus on is the heat of Kylo’s large hands on his arms, on his wrists, on his hands. Kylo’s skin is hot as Hux twines their fingers together, the heat of him scalding in the freezing air. It’s so impossible, so shocking, that Hux has to look down, has to watch their fingers intertwine with each other. He hasn’t touched anyone like this, so gently and innocently, in ages.

 _It’s beautiful_ \-- the words ring in Hux’s ears and he can’t help but blush, realizing he’s just left Kylo hanging. He looks up to answer, only to find that Kylo’s face is right there, so close. His breath clouds the air in a steamy little puff of warmth. Hux can’t stop focusing on just how _happy_ Kylo looks. He looks younger, more carefree -- he looks infinitely _touchable._

Kylo sees Hux’s eyes flick to his lips, their gaze meeting again, and he can’t shake the giddy adolescent high singing through his blood. Hux’s fingers seem to sear into him, and Kylo is infinitely aware of the smooth whorls of Hux’s fingertips, the pressure of his palms. Then his nose is brushing alongside Hux’s nose, both of them cold and reddened from the near-winter air, and Hux does not back away. Instead, he lifts his chin just enough to let their lips meet, a mere graze, barely a touch before the unlatched screen door is shoved open, pops closed, and an orange shape appears at their feet.

Millicent looks up at them, blinking, and then takes a single step down the front stairs. It takes only that for Hux to let Kylo go with a panicked gasp, dipping down to scoop the cat up before she can bolt into the yard. Kylo’s heart is still thundering in his ears, head swimming from that almost-kiss, saturated with both disappointment and elation.

Hux clutches the cat tightly, thoughts scattered and disorganized, while she squirms. He hazards a look at Kylo after he has sufficiently scolded her for going outside, even though it was his own fault for leaving the door unlatched. Kylo looks discouraged on first glance, but the longer Hux looks, the more he can see the warmth still there, the affection that has grown between them. It’s encouraging -- and also suddenly daunting.

It’s a lot to process. Hux can still feel the kiss of warmth from Kylo’s lips on his own. Half of him wants to lean back in, to kiss Kylo again -- but the other half reminds him that now is not a good time. They’re barely safe, barely out of whatever has been plaguing them. Besides -- he doesn’t even know if Kylo _wants_ this. Doubts swirl in Hux’s head, ears ringing. Hux isn’t a superstitious man, but he finds himself wondering if Millicent escaping outside was a sign that now isn’t a good time, that they shouldn’t do this.

“I,” Hux starts, and then stops. “Um.” He has absolutely no idea what to say. A dark flush rises on his cheeks, enough so that he can feel it creeping toward his ears. He swallows, looks down at Millicent. “We should probably go back inside?” It’s a question, even though he knows better. But he can’t bring himself to care, too caught up in trying to figure out if what he had done was a huge mistake or not.

Kylo can’t quite bring himself to regret what had just happened, despite Hux’s evident discomfiture. He takes one last look around the yard as the snow begins to blanket everything in pristine white, and then he nods at Hux, offering him a small smile as he holds the storm door open for him.

The house is silent in that still, sleepy way that seems to be part of the atmospheric power of a snowfall, and yet it doesn’t feel like a heavy silence. The pungent aroma of sage and incense still permeates the air, and Rey’s presence seems to linger like a guardian spirit. Kylo shuts the door and follows Hux to the living room, relaxing by degrees when no cabinets fly open or doors slam. Is this thing perhaps over? Something still tugs at the edge of his consciousness, an indistinct whisper that wants him to know something, but Kylo resolutely ignores it for now.

Hux has settled on the couch and is dabbing Millicent’s furry paws dry with the corner of a blanket, and he doesn’t look at Kylo. His cheeks are still pink, though whether from the cold or shyness is a mystery. Settling beside him, Kylo gives him enough space so as not appear brash, even though that simple taste of closeness makes him crave it terribly; he hadn’t realized just how lonely his self-enforced isolation had made him.

Looking past Hux, Kylo’s eyes fall on the old stone fireplace that before now he’d just dismissed as decorative. The mantel is covered with picture frames of vibrant green landscapes, a few photographs of people with Hux’s pale skin and red hair, and the actual hearth is scoured clean and doesn’t look as though it’s been used in a long time.

“We should build a fire,” Kylo suggests on impulse. It seems like a logical pursuit for a snowy afternoon.

Hux looks up, fingers still on Millicent’s paws. She seems content to let him work, perhaps proud of her moderate attempt at escape. Hux thinks that perhaps she just wanted attention, wanted to be part of -- whatever it was that had been going on between himself and Kylo. Maybe it _wasn’t_ a bad omen: just a cat being a cat.

“Huh,” Hux says, letting his eyes fall on the fireplace after taking a bit too long to linger on Kylo. “I haven’t done that in ages.”

It’s not an impossibility, though. In his childhood Hux’s family used to use the fireplace often. It hasn’t been cleaned in a while, but he still remembers how to open the flue and start a fire.

“There’s some wood out back under a tarp next to the shed. I keep it for emergencies.” Just in case the power goes out in the middle of a storm, or something. His father always taught him to be prepared. “It’s a good idea. Do you want to bring some in while I get this ready?” Hux gestures to the fireplace, then points out at a blue tarp next to the shed out back, visible from the back window.

“Sure,” Kylo says, unable to keep from smiling.

He grabs his boots and then lets himself out the back door and crosses the yard to the shed. Snowflakes settle on him, fat and damp, and the yard is coated in a white blanket that turns to slush beneath his feet. It’s slippery, so he picks his way cautiously until he reaches the wood pile. Stooping to untie the tarp, he peels a corner of it back and tugs one log free, assailed with the slightly sweet redolence of hickory and forest loam. Kylo takes a deep lungful of the country air, closing his eyes briefly, letting out the breath slowly.

Then he piles several more logs into his arms, enough for a decent fire, nudges the tarp back over the wood, and turns to go back into the house.

He stops short as though he’s been punched in the stomach, all the air leaving his lungs.

The snow is falling in earnest now, beginning to fill in the outlines of his bootprints where they trail in a straight path from the back door to the shed. It’s not that which screams for Kylo’s attention, but the additional trail of footprints which match his step for step, parallel as though someone had crossed the yard beside him. They stop just where Kylo now stands, and are even now fading back into the white tapestry covering the grass.

Kylo looks to the back door, desperate to see it open and see Hux standing there smiling at this joke, but of course the door remains closed. He even turns his head to look behind him, leans around to peer behind the shed in case someone had followed him out here and he’d just not noticed because his head was in the clouds.

But there is nothing.

Shivering from more than just the cold, Kylo slowly begins walking back to the house, purposefully shuffling in a jagged trail through both sets of footprints, obscuring the mysterious, disembodied set in case Hux should look outside. Perhaps if he keeps this to himself, Kylo thinks, it won’t further antagonize his roommate. The man he’d just kissed, who Kylo realizes he very much wants to kiss again if they’re not first driven mad by what’s happening here.

As he walks, Kylo turns his head on impulse to look up at the house, to the second floor where his window looks out over the back yard.

And there’s someone there. At first, Kylo just thinks it’s Hux, because it’s man-shaped and indistinct behind the curtains, and he doesn’t think much of it except to worry that Hux has been watching him try to erase the footprints in the snow. But then Kylo stomps up the back steps, knocking snow off his boots, and sees Hux kneeling in front of the fireplace. Immediately, Kylo whips around, looking at the window, but there is nothing there.

 _“What the fuck do you want?”_ he whispers into the winter air, his voice plaintive and tired. “Leave us alone.”

When no answer is forthcoming, Kylo turns the doorknob and slips inside with his burden, determined not to tell Hux what he’s seen.

Hux looks up from his place kneeling in front of the fireplace when Kylo lets himself inside. He has a smudge of soot, dark on his pale and freckled cheek, and is busy cleaning off his hands on a soot-covered rag.

“The flue is open. Didn’t give me too much trouble. For a second, I was worried I was going to disturb something living in there -- a bird or a mouse, you know?” He vividly remembers a time, as a child, when there had been squirrels living in the chimney. The noises had been strange and frightening, but his parents had easily fixed the problem by calling an exterminator.

“You look cold,” Hux can’t stop himself from saying. Kylo’s cheeks are rosy from the chill outside, his hair slightly damp from the snow, littered with rapidly melting snowflakes -- but his eyes look as warm as ever. Hux swallows, suddenly acutely aware of his own heartbeat once more. Everything seems quiet, but Hux feels like it’s in a good sort of way.  He already feels warm, despite the fact he hasn’t yet started the fire. “We could make hot cocoa.” He suggests.

Kylo only half forces a smile; it’s easier to dismiss what he’s just seen outside when he focuses on Hux, whose color is high and eyes bright above the smudge of soot on his cheek.

“I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was a kid,” he tells Hux, stooping to lay the wood next to the hearth. When he straightens, Kylo indicates his own face with a hand. “You have um...soot.”

Hux’s hand flies to his face and he half turns away, scrubbing at it with his palm, but missing the mark. Kylo laughs softly and closes the distance between them, reaching out and catching Hux’s chin with his fingers. Turning him back, Kylo uses the arm his sweater to dust off Hux’s cheek, taking more care and time about it than absolutely necessary. Hux watches him the entire time from beneath his lashes. Kylo wonders if Hux regrets the brief moment on the porch, if it had all been too soon; it seems like they’ve been in this house together for months, but in reality, only a little over a week has passed.

When there is no soot left to clean from Hux’s cheek, Kylo reluctantly drops his hand, even though what he wants to do his slide fingers into that red hair and pull Hux to him and press him hard to his lips. It seems dangerous, and ill-advised, because this is his roommate, and this is supposed to be Kylo’s fresh start. If things go the way of Kylo’s past romantic pursuits, he’ll be back out on the street and all of this will have been for nothing.

For a moment, all Hux can hear is static, loud in is hears. His heart thuds loudly, deafeningly , with Kylo this close to him. For a split second, Hux thinks that Kylo might lean back in and brush their lips together again, but it doesn’t happen. Kylo pulls his hand away and breaks the warm contact between them. Hux tries not to feel disappointed.

Hux takes a couple seconds to chastise himself: he’s not this person. He doesn’t get crushes, doesn’t get his hopes up about people. He normally doesn’t _care_. But it just feels like there’s something special, something different about Kylo. Something that breaks Hux’s usual patterns. Hux just doesn’t know what it is or why.

Well -- there is _clearly_ something different about Kylo, something that very much has to do with Hux’s house now being haunted, but Hux refuses to accept that that has anything at all to do with this...crush. At all.

“Thanks,” Hux says, brushing a hand against Kylo’s arm. “I’m going to --” he gestures toward the kitchen before making his way toward it with a blush. “-- Cocoa.” He says while in the doorway, finishing up his thought and cursing himself for sounding like an idiot. Kylo flusters him -- it’s extremely frustrating. At least he has some time to recover from his embarrassment in the kitchen while heating up some milk.

A few minutes later Hux returns to the living room with steaming mugs of cocoa in his hands to find Kylo already in the process of starting the fire. The house is already starting to smell good -- like winter. Hux settles down next to Kylo on the carpet with his legs crossed underneath him. He sets one mug of cocoa on the hearth for Kylo and keeps the other in his palms to keep his fingers warm. There is cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla in the cocoa -- and Hux cannot resist taking a too-warm sip because of the inviting smell.

“You’re quite good at that,” Hux says, nodding at the fire beginning to crackle to life in the fireplace.

Kylo gives him a sidelong smile. “Twelve years of Boy Scouts,” he admits, using the fire iron to adjust a log until he has it settled properly. “I can tie twelve kinds of knots and clean a fish, too. Very handy to have around.”

He settles back on the rug, turning to face Hux, pleased at the small laugh that he’s elicited. Kylo doesn’t concern himself with putting a chaste distance between them, and in fact crosses his own legs so his knees are resting comfortably against Hux’s own. When Hux doesn’t seem to mind, Kylo picks up his mug and takes a sip. With the fire crackling merrily now, he can almost believe that nothing bad has ever happened here. That it was all a dream.

Hux relaxes for a while, just enjoying the silence between them that is punctuated by the crackling fire. The smell of sage and incense lingering in the house mixes with the scent of cocoa and the wood fire, and Hux can’t help but feel like the house feels more like home than it ever has.

But a question still lingers in his head, nipping at his thoughts. He doesn’t want to break the careful, content silence between them, but he isn’t sure when he’s going to get a better opportunity.

“Kylo,” Hux says. Kylo looks up and makes a noise of affirmation, so he continues, albeit with a careful, affable tone of voice. “Would you tell me what happened with your father?” It seems, in all of this, that some details have gone by Hux. “I’m sorry,” he says, before Kylo can respond, “I realize that this seems like a difficult topic for you, but -- sometimes talking helps.”

Kylo frowns, looking at the floor, and feels the pleasant atmosphere threaten to evaporate. He’s never found that talking helps, actually, but he guesses that after all of this, as understanding and accepting as Hux has been, Kylo owes him an explanation. It’s not every day that someone’s dead father calls them up. Hux could absolutely have dismissed Kylo as insane, or worse, but he hasn’t.

Taking another sip of his cocoa, Kylo sorts through the memories and tries to decide where to begin. He thinks that what took place that night in the car began decades in the past, has roots in every argument he and Han Solo had ever had that tore them farther apart.

“It was just over six months ago…” he says cautiously, still looking down, “We were on the way to pick my mom up at the airport. It was raining, and we were arguing about whether I was going to her award ceremony. She was getting some civil servant thing.” Kylo has to set his mug down, because his fingers are trembling. He curls them into the fabric of his jeans, realizing that this is the first time he’s ever spoken about this night aloud, to anyone.

“Anyway, we always argued. My dad and I. About everything. That night was particularly bad, because he accused me of not valuing my mother. So, we were yelling at each other, I wasn’t paying attention like I should have been. The guy that hit us fell asleep at the wheel, they think. Crossed the median, and came at us head-on. I could have avoided it if I hadn’t been looking at my dad instead of the road… He died instantly. I got this.” Kylo gestures at his face, where the long scar bisects the right cheek. “Shattered my knee. Was in the hospital for a month.” Kylo’s voice is tight as he finishes. “The last thing I said to my dad was ‘ _You’re an asshole_.”

Hux didn’t need to ask to know where the story was going. He sees the end before it even started -- he had just hoped it wasn’t true. Still, his heart falls and his throat clenches up in second-hand-grief. He knows the acute pain of losing his parents and cannot help but feel a wave of it now, in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he says, and truly means it.

 _Comfort_ has never been something that came naturally to Hux. To some, it would be a personal shortfall -- to Hux, it had always been a point of pride. Now, however, he suddenly wishes he was better at it. That his sympathy was closer to empathy than simply a shared experience.

“I’m truly sorry, Kylo,” Hux says again. He looks at Kylo’s trembling hands and places his own palms over Kylo’s fingers where they fist in his jeans. He doesn’t tell Kylo it’s not his fault -- doubtless countless psychiatrists and relatives and pamphlets have reiterated that fact hundreds of times. Hearing it again is meaningless. “I never got along with my father, either,” he says, instead.

Kylo looks up at last, meeting Hux eyes, and sees the sympathy there. For once, the expression on another’s face seems devoid of pity, which is the thing Kylo could never stomach. And Hux’s hands on his - he _needs_ that. After having pushed away so many offers of help, so many efforts to comfort him, it’s startling to Kylo how easy it is to allow himself to feel vulnerable with Hux. Instead of making him want to flee, Hux makes him feel accepted _as is_.

Carefully, so as not to make him flinch away, Kylo turns his hands over, wraps his fingers around Hux’s. “Thank you,” he says softly, squeezing the hands in his gently. “I’m sorry about your parents, too. I don’t know why family has to be so damn difficult.”

When Kylo squeezes his hands, Hux’s breath hitches. It’s so warm, so familiar -- so affectionate. Kylo, who looks like a disaster, has such a capacity for affection that Hux cannot help but find it endlessly surprising.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. Instead, he lets Kylo wrap their fingers together for a quiet moment.

When Hux looks up at Kylo from watching their fingers curl together, the air leaves his lungs in a long, shuddering sigh. Kylo’s skin is warmly lit by the fire crackling a few feet to the side, his eyes bright with emotion and flame. Hux can’t help but feel warm -- no, hot -- at the mere sight of him. Suddenly, he feels the need to reach out, to touch, to solidify this moment in his memory. To prove to himself that it is real.

Hux untangles one of his hands from Kylo’s warmth and reaches out, letting his fingertips brush Kylo’s stubbled cheek. He ghosts a thumb over Kylo’s sharp cheekbone, lets his palm cup Kylo’s cheek, his jaw. Before Hux knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, leaning forward to press his lips against Kylo’s own.

From the first moment that Hux touches him, to the instant their lips meet, Kylo can’t breathe. His heartbeat is rapid, senses intensely attuned to every detail of Hux, from the tender fingers against Kylo’s cheek to the way he tastes of smoky chocolate. Kylo makes a low, half-desperate sound, suddenly craving this more than anything, and reaches out with his free hand to card through Hux’s hair, anchoring Hux to him. Kylo returns the kiss with a soft sort of reverence at first, then gives way to his hunger and parts Hux’s pliable lips with his tongue. Every event of the recent days in this house, everything Kylo had just allowed to surface from the past, is suddenly insignificant in comparison to this moment.

Hux knows he should pull away, should apologize for bringing up a sore subject -- but he can’t stop himself. Instead, he lets himself melt into Kylo, pushing himself onto his knees to lean closer, unable to stop.

Feeling more desperate than perhaps he should, Hux lets his fingers tangle into Kylo’s hair. It allows him to pull Kylo closer, to truly and finally feel close to him. They’ve only known each other for a short while, but it feels like he’s been waiting to kiss this man for forever.

Eventually, Hux pulls back, lips red and cheeks flushed, still tasting like Kylo, heart still pounding in his chest. Kylo is not ready to let him go, however, and chases him with soft pecks, a smile curving on his mouth as Hux relents and sinks back into him. But Hux’s hand in his hair and lips against his is not enough, and Kylo drops a hand to Hux’s waist, fingers tucking just beneath the waistband of his pants, and tugs him forward. Hux hardly resists, much to Kylo’s pleasure, shifting forward on his knees and spilling into Kylo’s lap.

The house is quiet, no sound but the lazily crackling fire and their raspy, broken breathing. Hux is flush against Kylo, straddling his thighs, arms draped around his neck. Hux has an endearing way of humming quietly into kisses, and the sound transforms to a low, needy moan when Kylo trails his lips across his jaw and to his neck. The skin there is flushed pink, hot beneath Kylo’s mouth, his tongue.

It is unmistakable how muscular and well-honed Kylo is when Hux is over him like this, hips nestled snugly over Kylo's toned thighs He slides his hands under Kylo's shirt and nearly groans into Kylo's mouth when his hands slide over sculpted abs -- _J_ _esus,_ Hux was not expecting to react like this.

"My god," Hux moans as he breaks away from the kiss, letting his mouth wander to Kylo's jaw, then his neck. He liberally allows himself to plant kisses against Kylo's collarbone, lets himself pull his teeth over tender, mole-dotted skin. "How are you even _real_ ?" Hux says, pulling Kylo back for another hungry kiss. Now that Hux has given in, allowed himself to _want_ \-- he doesn't know how to stop.

Kylo inhales sharply when Hux slips hands beneath his shirt, both from the slight chill of his fingers to the immediate and electric response of his body. It's been so long since anyone has touched him this way, he can't remember what it felt like before. Gliding a hand up Hux's chest, lips tracing the thrumming pulse in his neck, Kylo lets his reptilian brain guide his actions and thumbs open the first button of Hux's shirt, then the second. He fumbles enough of them loose that he can press his palm against Hux's chest, slide his hand across the delicate swell of a collarbone. Kylo hears how shallow his own breathing is now, and pulls Hux down hard in his lap, hips grinding up with an instinct to seek friction.

Belatedly, he hears Hux’s question, but can only murmur _“I want you”_ in response, the words a hot exhalation against Hux’s ear. He doesn’t think about the logic of that, or count the number of days they’ve known each other. None of that matters in this moment.

A small part of Hux realizes that there is a logical conclusion to this, and that it ends in one of their beds. He’s not sure he -- or Kylo, for that matter -- is ready for that step, but he also isn’t quite ready to stop. So, Hux simply moans in response and kisses Kylo deeper. It’s hard to think, but so easy to let his body do the talking for now. He grinds his hips down at the urging of Kylo’s hands on his hips. Kylo’s fingers are so big, his palms so warm -- all Hux wants is for Kylo to keep touching him, to spread the heat from his hands to Hux’s flushed skin.

They should stop, Hux thinks. He kisses Kylo instead. They should stop, but instead Hux breaks away and bites at Kylo’s collarbone. It’s undignified, making out on the floor like this, like a couple of teenagers -- but it’s somehow all that Hux remembers how to do. It feels right, even if it’s messy, base. Kylo plants a wet kiss on Hux’s neck and Hux groans, hips rocking down with need. He fists his hands in Kylo’s hair again and pulls until Kylo moans, and Hux licks the sound straight from his mouth.

The hands tugging at his hair, the tongue in his mouth, the slender thighs wrapped around him - it sets Kylo on fire, makes his ears ring as his blood surges. He's fully hard now, can't help it, and he's making a low animal noise against Hux's mouth, too far gone to kiss him properly. It's sloppy, wet, teeth bruising lips, and Kylo's fingers are working at the button of Hux's pants, dipping fingers beneath boxers, tensing to move because he wants Hux on his back, beneath him, and --

“ _Fuck,_ ” Hux curses, pulling back from Kylo with glazed eyes and tousled hair. He’s panting and flushed and his ears are ringing with want. But -- it’s so much, too much. The warm fingertips dipping under his boxers, while being a tempting offer, had reminded him all too quickly how fast he was coming unraveled. Hux doesn’t _do_ this. Doesn’t let things get so far, so fast, with a practical stranger -- no matter how deep his crush. He does things the _correct_ way, he reminds himself. He at least gets to know the other person, first -- a bit more than sharing terrifying experiences together, anyway.

Before Kylo can get the wrong idea, can think that Hux doesn’t want him, want this, Hux grabs Kylo’s hands and brings them to his lips. He kisses Kylo’s fingers. “I’m sorry,” Hux says. “It’s just -- that was really quite fast and -- um.”

Hux pauses, adjusting himself to lean back slightly, however uncomfortable it makes his trousers. It’s better than still brushing up against Kylo, no matter how much half of him still wants to. “Normally this sort of thing is preceded by dinner and drinks, a -- uh, a date.” He flushes, the blush rising quickly to his ears. He watches Kylo’s face and isn’t sure what to do with his quiet reaction -- perhaps he assumed too much. Maybe Kylo doesn’t _want_ anything romantic out of this. Suddenly, Hux is consumed with doubt. “I mean, if you would like that. To do that. We don’t have to.”

Hux’s words sink in slowly, filtering through the thick haze of lust, bringing Kylo slowly back to himself. His eyes focus on Hux’s steady gaze, the long red lashes and green irises that Kylo suddenly notices must change color with Hux’s mood. Just now, they are dark green - the color of summer leaves in shadow.

It registers at last what Hux has said, his roommate pressing small kisses against Kylo’s fingers and watching him with trepidation and desire both. The implication - that Hux would want more than just physical gratification from him - is somehow more intoxicating than the lithe body in his lap.

Kylo inhales shakily, squeezes Hux’s hands. Leaning forward, he lays his nose alongside Hux’s so he can whisper against his lips. “I do want that. That, and everything else.” Maybe that is too intense a declaration, but Kylo can’t make himself care. “Whenever you’re ready.” A log shifts in the fire, falls, spitting tiny red sparks.

Hux leans in, catching Kylo’s lips in his own for a short, sweet kiss. “I’m glad,” Hux says, his chest filling with warmth. It feels a bit like coming home, finally being able to acknowledge feelings he had felt welling up, but had been unwilling to address.

“Christ, I’m ready now,” Hux says, going for the truth instead of a lie. “There’s nothing more that I’d like than to fuck you right here, right now, on the ground.” It’s crass, and it makes Hux flush. It reminds him of just how much he _wants_ Kylo, how much he is consumed by his own desire.

“It just -- with everything going on right now, that it might be pertinent to...take things a bit more slowly.” Hux’s life has been a whirlwind. So many things are happening; his whole worldview has changed. Diving into something like this, so quickly, doesn’t seem like a good idea. It’s a recipe for failure. It also doesn’t seem fair to Kylo, who is at the center of all of this. If this becomes royally fucked, Kylo is the one with the most to lose.

Hux swallows and remembers how close he is to Kylo, still straddling his lap. Embarrassment slowly seeps into his thoughts and he can’t help but look down. “We, uh -- maybe we should call it a night?”

Kylo is biting his kiss-swollen bottom lip, hands now resting lightly at Hux’s waist, against the super-heated skin beneath his shirt. That shirt is unbuttoned, spread open over a smooth chest, the hair so pale and fine as to be almost invisible. Everything Hux is saying makes sense, is logical, but after the phrase _nothing more that I’d like than to fuck you right here,_ Kylo has to make an effort to submit to restraint. That’s not his nature, after all.

Blinking, he feels his over-blown pupils finally adjusting, the room coming into focus. The fire is nearly out now, having been neglected in their delicious distraction. How long had it gone on? Outside, wind has blown the snow against the glass panes, making half-moon shapes in the corners, and beyond that, everything is white and silver and blue with oncoming night.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I suppose we should.”

Kylo reluctantly removes his hands, though doesn’t shirk the opportunity to cup Hux’s face and draw it to him for one last, lingering kiss, his imagination and hopes lending it, perhaps, a well-spring of promise. When they part, Hux offers him a small smile that seems to return the sentiment, and then shifts carefully off Kylo’s lap and draws the zipper back up on his slacks.

It’s early to be turning in for the night, but as Hux stoops to gather their half-empty mugs of forgotten hot chocolate, Kylo sees his own weariness reflected in Hux’s posture. Kylo pushes himself up from the floor and follows Hux into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water before going upstairs.

Hux puts the dirty mugs in the sink and fills them with water. When he turns, he lets Kylo pass to fill his own glass. “Oh,” Hux says, and crosses the kitchen to the closet where Rey had stashed the ouija board. “I’m going to put this in the attic.” It’s not nearly far enough away for his liking. Hux wants it gone, but Rey had mentioned something about not burning it or throwing it away. So, the closet was where it had been shoved away. The attic, Hux thinks, is far better. It’s completely out of sight, out of mind.

“I’ll, uh, see you upstairs.” Hux says, and leaves the kitchen with a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. _Dumb_ he thinks. Will he see Kylo upstairs? Was that too presumptuous? After he’s straddled the man and had his tongue down his throat, it’s kind of hard to tell where the line is and if he’s crossed it.

But, when Hux returns from stashing the board in the attic, Kylo is waiting for him at the bottom of the pull-down ladder. He’s leaning up against the wall, looking tousled and tired, and Hux simply cannot stop himself from leaning in and stealing a kiss.

Kylo’s hand darts out of its own accord and catches Hux by the waist again, pulling him close for the few long seconds it takes to force the awareness that if they start this here, it will be that much harder to stop. Not when they can just walk the few feet to Kylo’s bed and fall back onto it. _Christ_ , that’s where he wants to be right now, with Hux’s lips on his neck, deft fingers tickling the line of hair below his navel, drifting down until …

Kylo pulls back, clearing his throat with a lopsided, dazed smile. “Goodnight,” he murmurs softly.

Hux smiles, a bit wistfully, Kylo thinks, and bids him goodnight as well. Kylo watches him walk down the hallway to his room, feeling his own smile broaden slightly when Hux looks back once before disappearing inside. He leaves his door open, Kylo notices.

Kylo takes a long, uncomfortably cool shower, refusing to picture the culmination of his desire for his roommate. He could seek release, just one wall away from Hux and with the still clear impression of Hux’s hands on his body, but Kylo doesn’t want that release until Hux gives it to him.

Nevertheless, he feels remarkably sated, wrung-out, blissfully empty by the time he slides into bed. He too, leaves his door open, and lays for a long while listening to the quiet of the house while watching the empty hall outside. It’s colored for a while by the lamp-glow from Hux’s room, though when that finally goes out, Kylo rolls over and watches the snow as it continues to spiral lazily down from the heavens.

Hux tosses and turns in bed for long minutes before he gives up entirely. The house is too quiet, and he is too alone. After everything, he doesn’t want to spend the night in an empty room. And for once, he thinks that he doesn’t have to. Before, he had fallen asleep next to Kylo on accident -- but now, it seems like an available option. That is, if he’s not intruding.

So, Hux peels his covers off. He lies there for a few extra moments before pushing himself up. He pads out the doorway and down the hallway, until he is lingering in Kylo’s doorway. The door has been left open, so Hux takes it as a promising sign -- at least Kylo hadn’t closed it. It appears that Kylo is facing the other direction -- perhaps asleep already. So, Hux clears his throat softly. Quiet enough so that if Kylo were sleeping, he wouldn’t wake him. But, much to Hux’s pleasant surprise, Kylo shifts and turns over until he is blinking at Hux with sleepy, questioning eyes.

Suddenly, Hux realizes he has _no_ idea what to say. He hadn’t even thought about it. “Would you like to -- uh,” he pauses and clears his throat again. “Not sleep alone, maybe?” It sounds so _dumb_ , so juvenile and he can’t help but kick himself.

Kylo grins, almost laughing at the fact that he’s been lying here thinking about the very same thing. How he doesn’t want to fall asleep again, ever, without Hux’s body against his. In answer, he props himself up on one elbow and throws the covers back, inviting Hux in.

Hux can’t help but smile, the grin pulling at his cheeks. He can’t help but feel enamored of Kylo as he crosses the room and slides under the covers next to him. It’s warm and inviting, and suddenly Hux feels like the entire night is complete. He carefully slides his hand over Kylo’s stomach and settles his head on Kylo’s shoulder. “Is this fine?” Hux can’t help but ask. He knows he’s the one who pulled back earlier, but this -- this is something he wants desperately, this closeness.

“Mmmm,” Kylo hums, trying to find somewhere safe to put his hands. Hux’s hair is falling about his face, and he cards through it, brushing a thumb over the rise of a cheekbone. He wants to roll over, pull Hux against him, but that would lead too easily to Hux’s body beneath his, Kylo’s thigh parting Hux’s, and…

“Yes,” he whispers hoarsely. “This is more than fine.” And it is.

Instead of lying awake all night, tense and needy, Kylo falls asleep rather quickly, lulled by Hux’s soft breathing, the lavender scent of his hair, the way he occasionally turns his face up to press a chaste kiss to Kylo’s neck or the curve of his jaw. When Kylo wakes, the sky is clear through the open curtains, a deep blue faded by a muted winter sun. It must have warmed up, because there is no snow clinging to the glass.

Hux’s fingers are curled at the base of Kylo’s jaw, just below his ear. His head is still on Kylo’s chest, as though they’ve not moved the whole night. Perhaps they hadn’t. Kylo isn’t sure he ever wants to move again, and so he lays there for an indeterminate amount of time feeling Hux sleep, absorbing the way that his body feels breathing in, breathing out.

The peace is at last disturbed as Millicent bounds onto the bed with no announcement, and Hux startles, nails digging briefly into Kylo’s shoulder.

“Millie, no,” Hux mumbles, turning until his face is buried in Kylo’s neck. “Claws,” he grumbles as he flinches again. But judging by the light as he blinks his eyes open, it’s well past her breakfast time. He can only be thankful she didn’t bother them earlier -- maybe she has some respect, after all.

The last thing Hux wants to do is get up and vacate the warm bed or pull himself away from Kylo, but Millicent quickly worms her way between the two of them, sitting pretty on the plane of Kylo’s chest, meowing plaintively.

“I should get up,” Hux says, pulling away from Kylo’s soft skin. “Someone has to feed this terror,” he grumbles.

Kylo smiles, and it feels radiant and peaceful on his face. He rubs one finger under Millie’s chin, and she allows him to do so with an imperious air and half-slitted eyes. “Hux. Guess what?” he murmurs.

“Hm?” Hux says, letting his palm settle on the bare skin of Kylo’s stomach.

“Nothing happened last night,” Kylo says. “Just sleep.” He rolls over then, facing Hux, and touches lips to his.

Hux laughs, breathy and soft, and lets himself fall into the kiss. It’s gentle and affectionate, and Hux cannot help but smile. “You’re right,” he says as he pulls back, slowly sliding out from under the blankets and getting up. “Guess there are still some miracles, right?” It feels wonderful, knowing that he doesn’t have to be concerned. His worries have gone, melted along with the frost of the morning.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” Hux says, moving out the door with an eager Millicent following him.

Kylo doesn’t linger, not wanting to feel the warm spot that Hux had just vacated cool. He too slides out of bed and dons a gray thermal over his pajama pants. He pads downstairs, his mood high, a smile on his face.

It fades though, as he walks, because he sees Hux hovering outside the kitchen, pale as a ghost, just like he’d seen him a week ago.

Kylo’s heart skips, and as he reaches Hux, he takes his hand before he looks at the kitchen. The air leaves his lungs, replaced by a crushing disappointment.

The Ouija board is back on the table.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea why it's saying only Kyluxtrashcompactor wrote this chapter - apparently it's a known AO3 bug. Both authors wrote this chapter.
> 
> This chapter is NSFW.

 

The Ouija board is now buried on four corners of the property.

After its first unwelcome reappearance, neither Hux nor Kylo were of a mind to give it the opportunity for an encore, so Kylo had consulted Rey and determined the only real way to get rid of one, for good, is to cut it into four pieces and bury it in the four cardinal directions.

After this, they have a week of peace.

Hux mostly abandons his office and takes to working on the couch or spread out on his bed, lounging against Kylo, who spends his afternoons reading or drawing in his sketchbook. Kylo goes to work in the evenings, during which time Hux keeps nearly every light in the house on and checks his phone every five minutes for text messages. Kylo sends them religiously, making sure Hux is okay. Though their respite draws on from one day to seven, Hux is increasingly glad to see Kylo when he gets home sometime after eleven every night, which may have less to do with fear of being alone than from simply missing him.

They make a few token, half-hearted attempts to sleep in their own beds, as that is what normal roommates would do, but afterward they just go to bed together as though their proximity acts as a shield against the unknown. Neither of them discuss how odd their arrangement is; why should that seem notable compared to phone calls from the dead and mysterious supernatural figures?

Kylo sends Hux a text on Thursday morning, showing him a photograph of a modern drive in, looking skeletal in the daytime with only the blank white movie screen and churned, frozen field. Hux doesn’t think it looks at all romantic or like his idea of a date, but Kylo insists it will be fun, and so they plan for it the next night. Kylo goes so far as to tell Hux he’ll “pick him up at seven,” as though they’re in high school in 1956. It’s charming, but surreal.

“ _You’ll bring me home by midnight, like a respectable lady_ ,” Hux texts Kylo, before moving to his bedroom and shoving a packet of lube and a couple condoms into a pocket. Just in case. It’s not like he’s planning on anything -- but Hux likes to be prepared.

To be honest, Hux isn’t sure how he feels about drive-ins. He’s never been to one, besides a sort of fake one they set up on his college campus, where everyone threw down blankets on the quad and stretched out while they marathoned the Indiana Jones movies and sold popcorn for charity. It had been fun, but cold, and Hux had kept himself warm with alcohol and he still can’t remember if he’d even stuck around for the third movie. But the idea of doing something so disgustingly cheesy with Kylo sounds good, or at least more appealing, anyway. Besides -- Kylo seems stoked, and that’s all the persuasion that Hux seems to need.

Hux changes three different times before settling on his first choice of outfits -- brown khakis and a plaid shirt. He knows that Kylo is coming from work, so he figures he shouldn’t look _too_ nice. They are just going to be sitting in a car, getting greasy popcorn everywhere.  

Hux sits, Millicent in his lap, while he waits for Kylo to get off work and pick him up. He cannot help some apprehension -- partially for the date, and partially still expecting something spooky to happen while he’s home alone.

Kylo texts him at 6:30, saying he’s on his way, and actually arrives ten minutes early. He waits for Hux in the car, and Hux notices as he’s locking up that Kylo is craning his head, peering through the windshield at the second floor windows. As he walks down the driveway, Hux looks up himself, half-expecting to see … he doesn’t know what … but there is nothing. Thankfully. By the time Hux opens the door and settles into the seat, Kylo’s attention is only on Hux.

Kylo personally can’t remember being quite so excited in a long time. Having told Hux the story of what happened with his father seemed in some way to exorcise a pervasive negativity in his center. It’s as though Hux, who has been so remarkably accepting of truly implausible events, is now in some way sharing the burden. Perhaps it isn’t fair, but Kylo tells himself that it’s Hux’s choice. He could have told Kylo to go, to pack his things and move on, but instead he’d suggested a date.

Hux smiles at him as he opens the door and sits, and despite the fact that his smile is nothing new these days, each one still feels like the first. Significant and warm and full of something promising that Kylo desperately wants. Before Hux can buckle himself in, Kylo leans over the center console and catches his chin, turns Hux toward him, and kisses him.

Hux isn’t expecting the kiss, doesn’t know what to do with it the same way he doesn’t know how to deal with the nervousness twisting in his gut. But kissing Kylo feels right, feels like something he’s been depriving himself of for too long. So he kisses back, perhaps a little too thoroughly and enthusiastically than one should at the beginning of a first date -- but _what the fuck_ \-- they’ve been through a lot together. Hux deserves this. They both deserve it.

“You look nice,” Hux says, mostly because while Kylo does look nice, he moreso simply looks overwhelmingly happy. And that, Hux decides, is a look he very much appreciates on Kylo’s features. It lightens him, makes him look younger and brighter. Kylo’s smile is infectious and soon Hux cannot help but smile as well.

“Are we seeing any movie in particular,” Hux asks while they are on their way to the theatre. “Or are we just watching whatever’s on?” He’s fairly certain that any movies seen on dates are often not watched in the slightest, so he’s not sure it particularly matters -- but he’s nervous enough, in a good sort of way, to feel the need to make conversation.

Kylo smiles, wanting to reach over and twine his fingers with Hux’s, but not willing to drive without both white-knucked hands on the wheel. As it is, he’s already going five miles under the speed-limit, taking the back roads to avoid the highway, and watching on-coming traffic like a hawk.

“It’s a remake of The Haunting,” Kylo says, chancing a quick glance at Hux’s face. When Hux looks at him with glazed horror, Kylo laughs. “I’m kidding! It’s just Jurassic Park. Dinosaurs are cool, right?”

Truthfully, Kylo doesn’t expect Hux to be terribly interested in the movie, as it doesn’t seem to be his type of film. Even had it been, it’s old enough that he’s sure to have seen it before. That, of course, is part of his plan to monopolize Hux’s attention.

“Dinosaurs are cool,” Hux agrees. They are especially cool when he doesn’t have to sit through another horror movie. Even with Kylo next to him, he thinks that’d be too much. Things appear to have quieted at the house with the disposal of the board, but Hux cannot shake the need to look over his shoulder constantly. Not yet, anyway.

Hux leaves Kylo alone for the rest of the drive, not wanting to distract him. He knows about the accident now, and it’s the least he can do to help in little ways. So, he stays quiet. He offers directions and suggestions when asked, and helps guide Kylo through the moderately complicated directions of having to get into the drive-in.

Eventually, they park, finding a space near some other cars their size, directed by a bored looking teen with flags. “Oh hey,” Hux says, pointing out the window once they’re parked, to the car in front of them, where another attendant appears to be handing the inhabitants popcorn and sodas. “Looks like we can order from one of them. We don’t even have to get out of the car.” Which is nice, in and of itself, given that it’s pretty cold outside. Hux sees that Kylo has brought blankets, and he doesn’t want to leave the warmth of the car.

Hux smiles at Kylo, feeling warmth welling in his chest as he leans over to steal a quick kiss.

Soon, Hux snags popcorn, sodas, and some sour gummy worms from an attendant, and they are sitting cozily in the front seats of the car, holding hands over the center console. “Like teenagers,” Hux supplies, as the movie begins.

“Mmmhm,” Kylo answers, raising Hux’s hand to press his lips to the back of it. “Thought it might be nice to remember what it was like to not have to worry about shit.” Kylo glances at him, smiling. “Except maybe pain in the ass parents and whose math homework to copy.”

Hux raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I was the one people copied off of. Lot of pressure.”

Kylo gives him a fond smirk. “Right.” He kisses Hux’s hand again, and starts to lower it back to rest against the center console, when something catches his eye. With one thumb, he pushes up the cuff of Hux’s flannel. Along the pale outer arm, just above the accentuated wrist bone, is an angry red scratch. Perhaps two inches long, it seems fresh, yet to scab.

“What’d you do to your arm?” Kylo asks with soft concern. Outside the car, the opening credits fade in, the music reverberating from the old Pontiac’s modified sound system.

Hux looks down to the scratch Kylo just uncovered and shrugs. “I don’t know. I must have hit something and not noticed.” It’s been bugging him, but at the same time, Hux’d been too preoccupied with the date to really bring himself to care. “I put some cream on it and forgot about it.” It does look rather irritated and fresh, but the pain isn’t bad. It’s just like a cat scratch that Millie’s given him before, he just can’t remember her scratching him recently.

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t really hurt.” Hux doesn’t want to worry about, and he certainly doesn’t want Kylo to worry about it. He wants, with all his heart, for this date to go well. So he just raises his hand up, playful glint in his eye. “You can kiss it and make it better, if you want. I hear that’s a scientifically approved method of speeding up the healing process.” Hux winks.

When Kylo brings Hux’s wrist to his lips and kisses the scratch tentatively, Hux leans forward to steal a kiss of his own from Kylo’s lips. When he pulls back, he cannot help but grin, like he won something. “You’re distracting me from the movie,” Hux says. “ _Land Before Time_ , right?”

Kylo smiles back, gazing at him fondly. “I dunno, I forgot. You’re much more interesting.” It sounds like something a fifteen year old boy would say, but honestly Kylo feels like one. Hux’s answering huff of laughter doesn’t deter him. “You know, we could sit in the back. If we sit close together, we can see the movie between the seats.” He hardly manages to say this without laughing, realizing how blatantly forward he’s being.

The movie might as well be _Land Before Time_ , given how much attention Hux is paying to it. Kylo is here, in the car, so close to him. They finally have a minute to spend together, not weighed down by work or worries or supernatural forces. Hux feels light, giddy, and he cannot stop himself from smiling. 

"You're really upping the teenage dream here, Kylo." Hux says, but with a grin.

Sure, he could get out of the car -- but the thrill of trying to squeeze himself into the back seat like he's sneaking around is a little too much to pass up. Besides -- once Hux manages to maneuver himself into the back seat, all gangly legs over the center console for a bit too long while Kylo laughs at him, Hux realizes that he gets to watch Kylo try and squeeze himself into the back seat.

It's hilarious. Truly, they could be watching an hour long infomercial and Hux thinks he wouldn't notice -- not with the sight of Kylo attempting to wriggle himself into the back seat.

After much grunting, an exclamation of pain as he bangs his leg on the gear shift, and no small amount of barely repressed laughter from Hux, Kylo spills inelegantly into the back seat beside him. Hux had been at least marginally more graceful about it, with his narrow frame.

Rubbing his smarting shin, Kylo slumps into the center of the seat and tucks an arm around Hux, pulling him against his side. “Quit laughing,” Kylo admonishes him, but Kylo himself is quivering with near giddy amusement himself. He covers Hux’s mouth with his, though this doesn’t entirely make him stop. Not until he nips softly at Hux’s bottom lip, deepens the kiss with his tongue.

“I think you made the car shake so much it looked like we were --” Hux says, before Kylo cuts him off with a kiss. He cannot help but smile into the kiss, melting into it with ease. When Kylo nips, Hux nips back, giving as good as he gets. Hux lets the kiss linger for a few minutes, lets it grow nicely heated, before pulling back. “I thought we were here to watch a movie.” Hux says, and makes a point to watch at least a few minutes of Jurassic Park through the gap in the front seats.

They both make the effort, sitting in each other’s pockets, taking long pauses in between short scenes to kiss. For Hux, Kylo is a pleasant distraction -- one he is happy to keep falling into. There’s something about feeling the need to pull back and take a break that Hux enjoys -- it only adds to the thrill of the encounter. But he can only keep doing it for so long. Eventually, their kisses grow longer while the snippets of the movie grow shorter.

It’s not long before Hux finds himself straddling Kylo in the back seat, knees on either side of the larger man’s body. “You are,” Hux kisses him hard before letting his lips trail down Kylo’s jaw to his neck. “You are far too gorgeous.” He’s still a little in awe that Kylo is here with him. “And very distracting,” Hux says, feeling the heat of Kylo’s hands as they move over his body.

Kylo feels a small thrill at Hux’s words, the kind one gets when standing up too fast, or narrowly skirting something hazardous - a burst of adrenaline and headiness. He isn’t sure if anyone has ever called him _gorgeous_ before, and he certainly isn’t sure if it’s true, but Hux’s lips on his aren’t falsely eager, nor is the insistent press of his body in Kylo’s lap.

The heat in the car is off for the moment, with Kylo having intended to periodically run that and the defroster to keep them warm, but this is a far preferable alternative. Conveniently, it means the windows are gradually fogging up, which is probably a rather tell-tale sign of things within to anyone who happens to notice. Kylo figures, at least, that making out in the back seat during a drive in movie is not the most original idea anyone ever had.

He’s distracted from caring by the smooth planes of Hux’s back, the soft skin, the narrow dip of his waist. Kylo’s belly is tight with desire and that fluttery upside-down feeling that comes with an intense, undeniable crush. It’s like someone has turned all the lights on in his soul again. Like maybe it’s all going to be ok, if he can just have this person in his arms.

“You know,” he murmurs against Hux’s lips when they break for air, “we’re missing a very important lesson in how to extract genetic material from fossilized mosquitoes.” He punctuates the seriousness of this by biting Hux’s bottom lip.

The bite pulls a moan from Hux’s throat which he cannot stifle before embarrassment, bright and hot, flushes over his cheeks. The fact that someone might have heard him through the walls of the car is embarrassing and exciting all at once, even though Hux knows, fundamentally, that practically everyone around them is engaging in similar activities.

“I think there’s more important lessons to learn in here,” Hux says, biting at Kylo’s neck. It takes him a second before he laughs at his own words, recognizing them for how cheesy and terrible they are. But he has nothing to do other than to go with it. “Like,” Hux punctuates his words with a kiss to Kylo’s jaw, and then back to his lips. With ease, he slides his hands under Kylo’s shirt, fingers grazing over lines of warm muscle. _Holy fuck_ , Hux mouths. He cannot help it -- Kylo’s body is perfect. “Like anatomy,” he continues. “I’m learning about anatomy. Much more important than genetics.”

He lets his fingers trace over the muscles in Kylo’s abdomen, and then up to his pecs. He desperately wishes he could just slide Kylo’s shirt over his head, but even that might be a bit transparent for a drive in.

“Nng.” Kylo can barely catch his breath, feeling Hux’s fingers slide up his torso. If he wasn’t so turned on, he might feel embarrassed that he is so easily hard; barely anything has happened. “Is there anything about anatomy that you’d like a… mmm… hands-on lesson in? I can be very ah-accommodating.” Hux is grinding into his lap now, lips on his neck, one thumb circling the hard nub of Kylo’s right nipple. Kylo pulls him closer, tastes the skin of his neck. They are toeing a line here that Kylo desperately wants to cross.

“Oh god,” Hux says, knowing his control is paper thin at this point. He’d been the one arguing that they should wait, that they should slow their pace -- but here he is, straddling Kylo’s lap, grinding down against him like a randy teenager. It’s _embarrassing_.

But -- they’re both adults. They made it out of the house on a date. They had a whole long drive _to_ said date. And honestly, Hux doesn’t think he has the willpower to deny himself this any longer. Not when Kylo is underneath him, not when he’s so tempting. “Christ, Kylo. Have you had a career in bad porn acting that you forgot to mention?” He cannot help but laugh at the line, even knowing that he started it. But he _also_ cannot help but flush at the idea of getting his hands on Kylo.

Hux grinds his hips down again, slowly and deliberately. He leans forward and catches Kylo’s lips in his for a long moment before pulling back. “This is such a fucking terrible idea -- but I cannot wait to get my hands on you. Or,” Hux says, smirking, “my mouth. Whichever you prefer.”

Kylo’s fingers tighten on Hux’s waist at the suggestion, at the mere idea of Hux’s mouth on him. He groans into Hux’s neck. “Yes. Fuck yes.” He slips his hands out from beneath Hux’s shirt, threads them through soft red hair, and pulls Hux to him. Kylo kisses him hard, the sound of their ragged breathing loud beneath the forgotten movie score. When he finally comes up for air, he mumbles between pecking Hux’s lips: “What makes you think that I would be a bad porn star?” Before Hux can form a response, Kylo takes one of Hux’s hands in his, and guides it down his chest, over his flat belly. Then he presses Hux’s palm over his straining erection.

“Your lines,” Hux supplies, though he cannot help the hitch in his breathing that accompanies the feeling of his hand pressing against the warmth of Kylo’s hardness. _Holy shit_ , he murmurs under his breath, feeling heat flush over him like the sudden onset of a fever -- dizzying and exhilarating. “I don’t think you’re really -- lacking in any other areas…” Hux mutters, palming over the length underneath Kylo’s trousers. He is certainly well endowed, that’s to say the least. From what Hux can tell, he’ll have an interesting time fitting that in his mouth, much less inside him at a later date -- though the thought of it has him biting back a moan. While it would be a challenge, the reward would be thoroughly worth it, he has no doubt.

Hux makes quick work of Kylo’s trousers, undoing them and pulling them down enough that he can pull Kylo’s cock free. Hux cannot help himself from simply watching himself draw his hand up and down Kylo’s length for a long moment, reveling in the beauty of him. It’s a bit teasing, but Hux wants to savor the moment, to truly appreciate what he’s being given. But he can’t keep away from Kylo too long, leaning forward to pull him back into another bruising kiss.

Kylo can hardly focus on the kiss, insistent as Hux’s lips are; he keeps losing the flow of it as he breaks off with sharp gasps of pleasure and a shuddering intake of air as Hux’s fingers trace the outline of his cock, intent on mapping every inch, it seems. Those fingers are deft, nearly making short work of Kylo before finally pausing just to hold him. Kylo suddenly wishes they were back at the house, because he desperately wants Hux naked, wants to press his lips everywhere on Hux’s body. Perhaps it’s a good thing that they are here, where necessity will force them to take things slowly. At this rate, as long as it’s been since Kylo has been with anyone, there is no way he’d last long enough to be a thorough lover.

Kylo moves one hand from Hux’s waist to the button of his pants, thumbing it open and dragging the zipper down. Hux is gratifyingly hard as well, and Kylo brushes his fingertips lightly over the swell, making Hux shudder.

“I want to taste you,” he tells Hux in a near whisper.

It’s all Hux can do to not moan at the thought of Kylo’s mouth over his cock. Even now, in perhaps the most exposed place he’s ever attempted anything sexual, it’s perhaps the hottest thing anyone has ever said to him.

So, “God fucking yes,” Hux says, before he can think better of it.

Kylo leans back and Hux shucks his trousers awkwardly. He feels exposed, but he can barely see any of the cars around them. With no light coming from inside their car, it’d be hard for anyone to see in. Hux also cannot help but find some exhilaration in the idea that they are doing something out in the open.

After a bit of pushing and pulling from Kylo, Hux straddles him with his face to Kylo’s feet. Hux supposes that makes sense -- once they’re all settled, he can get his lips on Kylo’s length, too. Kylo urges him backward once Hux is settled, but he only pays the briefest of attention to Hux’s cock before maneuvering him once more, with large palms on Hux’s ass cheeks. He pulls Hux’s hips down, and before Hux can even process just what Kylo is aiming for, Kylo’s tongue is hot and wet on him. “Oh my god,” Hux breathes, “Kylo, you _can’t--”_ he argues, before his words dissolve quickly into a moan, Kylo’s tongue licking warm and slick over his hole.

The sounds Hux is making turn Kylo on perhaps more than anything else, especially since they’re so scandalously _loud_. Hux shudders with every caress of Kylo’s tongue, his balance off as he tries to hold himself up with most of his weight on one knee while simultaneously rocking back against Kylo.

Kylo has never been so attuned to the tells of pleasure in another person as he is to Hux at this moment; it’s like some invisible web connects them and Kylo can feel every vibration of want from Hux. Fingers grip the meat of Kylo’s upper thigh, short nails twitching into his flesh every time Kylo’s tongue laves over Hux’s tight furl. Where Kylo’s hands spread Hux’s pale cheeks apart, he can feel the tremors running through Hux’s legs, making his spine arch.

Hux is thoroughly wet, spit dripping down his cleft to the smooth balls pulled tight against his body. Kylo dips his head, tracing the length of that slick trail, feeling Hux twitch again and cry out at the new sensation. As Kylo teases at Hux’s entrance again, pressing the tip of his tongue in, his own cock jumps at the thought of easing into Hux, of burying his entire length inside him and hearing the sounds he’ll make then.

Hux manages to have the forethought to stifle his loud moan by taking Kylo’s length into his own mouth so that he can moan around him. The noise is half muffled, but it does nothing to ease the warmth growing in Hux’s gut. Kylo’s cock is thick and hot in his mouth, but it does little to distract him from Kylo’s tongue, which Hux can feel easing inside him. It is slick and foreign -- something Hux hasn’t felt in years. It’s so _much_. So good. Hux can barely process just what they’re doing here.

“Fuck,” Hux groans when he pulls back for a moment to lick his lips and gather his thoughts. He takes Kylo in his hand and continues stroking him, giving himself a moment to revel in the feeling of Kylo lavishing attention to his ass. It’s dirty and depraved -- not something Hux would ever _ask_ for -- but now that it’s happening, he cannot imagine anything hotter. Once he has caught his breath, he takes Kylo into his mouth again, ramping up the pace with a renewed vigor. Hux wants Kylo to feel as good as he does, wants him to feel unhinged and like he’s burning up inside.

Hux’s mouth on his cock breaks Kylo’s concentration, inhibits his ability to even _think_. Every time that tongue strokes down his length, Kylo lets out a small gasp against Hux, until finally they settle into a rhythm. Hux takes him in, out, over and over, and Kylo works his tongue inside Hux at the same pace, even the ache of it in the muscle somehow pleasurable. As Kylo feels heat begin to coil low in his belly, he reaches around Hux’s thigh and wraps thick fingers around Hux’s shaft. It feels perfect in his grip, made for him.

Hux groans at the touch, thrusts into Kylo’s fist, rocks back on his face, and Kylo feels him starting to come well and truly apart. It makes Kylo feel powerful, and like there isn’t another kind of power in the world that he wants. Kylo releases him only long enough to drag his own t-shirt up so that his chest and belly are exposed, and then grips Hux again, almost desperate to feel Hux spill his hot seed over Kylo’s skin. Kylo himself is close, wishes he could see his cock disappearing into Hux’s mouth. The sound of the movie reaching a crescendo drowns out the wet sounds of their sex, and Kylo adds that to a mental list of reasons to do this again. And again.

The moments lengthen and blur while Hux loses himself in the pleasure of sucking Kylo off while being rimmed. It’s a decadent feeling -- so pleasurable that Hux can barely think. It’s so easy to lose himself to the feelings, forgetting about where he is or what’s going on around them. When Hux feels pleasure welling in his gut, it’s unsurprising -- even though he wishes this could go on forever. But it’s too much, too hot -- way too pleasurable for Hux to even attempt to try and scavenge his already diminished self control. It’s gone -- apparently to wherever his self control went.

The second Kylo gets a hand on Hux, he knows he’s doomed. Kylo’s fingers are slick over him, while his mouth hungrily eats Hux out, lapping at him hungrily. It’s so depraved that Hux can barely stand it; Kylo is moaning and growling, and Hux is echoing him with sloppy noises of his own. This is nothing like any sex Hux has had in the past. It’s dirty and hot and Hux cannot possibly get enough of it.

Kylo swirls his tongue in a particularly delightful way, jerks Hux faster -- and that’s it; Hux cannot hold of his orgasm any longer. Hux groans loudly and nearly chokes on Kylo’s cock when it hits him. He spills onto Kylo’s chest, but barely loses his pace while sucking Kylo off -- wanting with every bone in his body for Kylo to feel the same rush of endorphins, the same pleasure that he did.

Kylo’s breath hitches when he feels Hux come across his fingers, and Hux’s mouth still on him, working him at a staggered pace as he groans through his climax, is enough to send Kylo over the edge himself. He digs his nails hard into Hux’s hips, bites down on one ass cheek hard enough to bruise, trying to muffle a shout that would surely be heard outside the car. He feels Hux flinch, throat working to swallow, and he realizes belatedly he had not given Hux much warning.

“Shit,” Kylo rasps. “Sorry.” He passes a hand affectionately over Hux’s lower back, kneading the muscles. He feels lightheaded, joints turned to jelly.

Hux swallows, unfussed. “Fuck,” he says, though, as he rights himself in the back of the car.  “Oh my god,” Hux mutters, moving to sit next to Kylo as he sits up as well. The windows are fogged, likely due to heavy breathing and strenuous activity mixed with a very cold temperature outside. He cannot possibly believe that he just had sex in a car, on a first date with Kylo Ren, with whom he has lived through a horror story.

But he cannot help it when the first laugh takes him, cannot help that it quickly yields to another and another, until he is laughing into Kylo’s shoulder and then tugging him in for a long kiss. It feels so freeing, so liberating, to have done what they just did, that he cannot help but be giddy with it.

“Do you know where my trousers went?” Hux says, heat fading slowly from his bones, now that the rush of orgasm has passed.

Kylo struggles to sit up without knocking Hux off the seat, his clothes half bunched beneath him, his cock spent and flagging, heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Hux’s laugh is infectious, and it feels like any minute someone might come knocking on the car window demanding they leave the drive-in for indecent behavior. Kylo leans forward, looking into the floorboard. “I could see you spending the rest of our date like this, honestly,” he says, throwing Hux a coy smirk and rubbing the inside of Hux’s thigh possessively.  He receives a raised eyebrow and a smile in return.

Kylo locates Hux’s pants beneath his feet, and has to tug his own pants back up before he can maneuver down to reach them. As Hux is bending himself into the trousers, Kylo notices something he thought he’d felt earlier on Hux’s back, but had been too aroused to investigate. Pushing Hux’s shirt up his back, Kylo sees three long, red marks, looking for all the world like scratches. Kylo is not an expert on cats, but he knows enough to realize that these marks are too wide to have been made by feline claws. He passes a hand over them, and Hux winces.

“What did this to you, baby?”

Hux furrows his brow, taking in some air through his teeth as Kylo brushes his fingers over the spot on his back. Truthfully, he’d noticed the pain for a short while, but had neglected to investigate any further. He’d assumed he’d just run into something and forgotten about it, opposed to actually having some sort of physical damage.

Hux’s skin goes cold, goosebumps prickling on the back of his neck. _‘What’ --_ Kylo had said. _What did this to you_ \-- the words make Hux shiver. Not _how did this happen_ , not _who did this to you_ \-- but _what._ It’s a chilling reminder that they have lived through a horror that Hux doesn’t want to think about.

“I don’t know?” Hux says. He lets Kylo pass his fingers carefully around the pain before he speaks again. “What does it look like?”

Kylo keeps his hand resting on the small of Hux’s back, just below the marks. “Like...fingernail scratches. You got some rough tail on the side I wasn’t aware of?” Kylo is trying to make light of it, but it honestly profoundly disturbs him.

“What the fuck,” Hux says, straightening up to try and get a look over his shoulder, even though he knows it’s pointless. When he fails, he reaches his hand under his shirt to try and get a feel, awkwardly brushing his fingers against the angry marks, wincing when he presses a bit too hard. “No?” He says, even though it’s not necessary. Even though they haven’t had any conversations about exclusivity, Hux isn’t the type to date multiple people. He’s not the type to date much at all, anyway.

“You don’t think --” Hux trails off, refusing to voice the question. It’s dumb. It’s stupid. And -- most of all -- he doesn’t want to think about the implications. “Nevermind. Do we want to just...finish watching this movie?”

Kylo gazes at him in concern for a few more seconds, then nods. He stretches his long torso through the opening between the front seats to turn the keys, starting the defroster, then he relaxes again beside Hux. He drapes an arm around his shoulders, letting Hux rest against him. Gradually, the windows clear, and the movie is visible again from where they are huddled together in the center of the backseat. Kylo hardly pays attention, too intent on Hux and the myriad feelings of passion and concern and the longing he has for this to just go right. Just this one thing.

By the time the movie has ended, the curious scratch marks are almost forgotten in favor of soft kisses and whispering about future dates. Kylo tells Hux they should go to a hockey game, and Hux says they should go to the botanical gardens. After the movie, Kylo drives them to a diner where they get cheeseburgers and milkshakes, and they are both pleasantly full and sleepy by the time they get home.

The house is quiet when they arrive, and Millie greets them at the door with a mewl. Kylo reaches down to scoop her up and scratch under her chin while Hux turns the lights on and looks around for anything out of place. It’s something he’s gotten into a habit of doing in the mornings and whenever he comes home from being out.

Hux finds nothing out of place, and so he diligently feeds Millicent her dinner while making them both some tea. They hover in the kitchen, standing too close to one another, drinking the chamomile and mint tea, winding down for the night. It’s a bit strange, being in the kitchen, but Hux feels a little like they are reclaiming the space, making it their own again. Having Kylo there, warm and familiar, is far too pleasant. When Hux finishes his tea, he steals a kiss and then simply leans his head against Kylo’s shoulder, delighting in the few inches the other man has on him.

“I need to shower,” Hux says with a quiet breath. He doesn’t feel terrible, but their earlier activities left him sweaty and sticky. The idea of showering before crawling into freshly washed sheets sounds blissful. “Do you -- would you like to shower with me?” Hux offers, feeling oddly strange for even offering. It seems so intimate -- though it shouldn’t, given the parts of him Kylo has seen up close and personal already.

The question makes Kylo’s stomach knot pleasantly, even though it probably shouldn’t at this point. The idea of growing intimacy between them is exhilarating, and with every taste that he gets, he wants more. Not just sex, but smaller, familiar things, like getting ready for bed together or brushing teeth alongside one another.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Kylo purrs, kissing Hux’s ear and making him snort with laughter. It has, of course, only been a few weeks. Even if it seems like far longer.

Kylo follows Hux up the stairs, imitating Hux by checking the open door of the common bathroom, and his own bedroom. He checks corners for shadows that don’t fit, things moving that shouldn’t have their own agency. However, it is peaceful and Kylo dares to wonder if perhaps they have weathered the storm, and their prize is each other.

Hux’s bedroom is inviting as always. It is homey, yet meticulous. Full of modern lines and accents of wood. It’s very _Hux_ \-- a mix of tradition and cleanliness, as well as a certain hint of personal flair. His bed, made up with far too many comfortable looking pillows, looks inviting, but Hux pulls Kylo along to his bathroom before Kylo can even think about flopping down on it. Hux has a rather spacious master bath, as well, with a jacuzzi style tub. Spotting it, Kylo has a better idea than a shower.

“Think we would both fit in that tub?” he asks, shirking his sweater and peeling away his undershirt. It occurs to him this will be the first time they’ve been completely naked together.

Hux nods, peeling his shirt off after starting the water for the tub. “Good idea.” He has a container of organic bubble bath that he grabs, and then tips a generous portion of under the faucet. Immediately, the bathroom fills with the pleasant aroma of jasmine, honey, and citrus. Hux takes his time to brush his teeth and wash his face, letting Kylo undress in peace. Like most things with Kylo, it feels easy to do this with him, no awkwardness to be found anywhere.

Eventually, the bath finishes filling. “After you,” Hux says, gesturing at the tub. Logistically, it makes the most sense to have Kylo sitting with Hux between his legs. Hux files in after him, leaning his back against the broad expanse of Kylo’s chest. With the warm embrace of water around them, it’s easy to relax and feel weightless.

Hux pulls soapy hands over the pleasant coating of hair on Kylo’s legs, though it isn’t too helpful for cleaning him. At least they’re not filthy -- just sweaty and tired. “Good plan, Kylo.” Hux says, leaning back until he’s looking at Kylo a bit upside down and sideways.

Kylo wraps one arm around Hux’s narrow chest and can’t help but smile down at him. Kylo kisses him and then tucks a foot between Hux’s legs.

“I could get used to this,” he says, nuzzling Hux’s soft, damp red hair. He _could_ get used to it. Very easily. It’s clear that what is developing between he and his roommate is something more than just sexual tension needing release; while the experience in the car had been sublime, and something Kylo would like to repeat in all its variations, just holding Hux chastely in a warm bathtub is as intrinsically satisfying. Is it possible to fall in love with someone this quickly? Is this just a crush? He thinks about what Rey had said once about soulmates, how the universe would just _tell you_ when you’d found the right person. If so, the things that have transpired since Kylo and Hux have met sure send a strange message, and Kylo isn’t too sure what it could be.

The peace of the bath is suddenly interrupted by Kylo’s phone ringing from within the folds of his discarded pants. He flinches and frowns, because he recognizes the first notes of _“I’ve Had It_ ” by Black Flag. It’s the song Kylo had assigned to play when his father called him. No one else has that ringtone. Both a tendril of fear and a pulse of rage trickle down Kylo’s spine, but he ignores the call. He feels Hux look up at him again, but Kylo doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he changes the topic, drastically, because he says the first thing that comes to mind, which isn’t always the wisest.

“So, does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” Kylo asks.

Hux settles a bit after the call. He’d felt Kylo tense as if scared, but once the phone had stopped ringing, Kylo had simply ignored it. It doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s not important, just that Kylo doesn’t want to talk about it -- and Hux can work with that. Especially when posed with such a surprise of a question.

“Uh,” Hux says, eloquently. It’s not that he doesn’t want that, but it’s just been _so long_ since he’s even considered the term. He doesn’t think it’s at all inaccurate, though.

“I suppose I am,” Hux says, placing a kiss on the corner of Kylo’s lips. “As long as you’re mine as well, anyway.” Hux’s words are punctuated by a yawn, sleepy and long. He cannot help but laugh quietly after it, fatigue hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“Shall we head to bed?” Hux suggests, after they've washed languidly.

Kylo nods, kissing Hux’s cheekbone, but is loathe to move. He’s so comfortable and deliciously content. They both remain there for a few moments, each of them perhaps waiting on the other to move, until finally Hux shifts and stands up. Kylo admires the view, thinking he hasn’t really ever seen anything so perfect. Maybe this is actually all a dream. It’s definitely been unreal enough that it wouldn’t surprise him.

Kylo climbs out after Hux, deciding that he appreciates Hux’s plush towels much more than his own old, threadbare things. When he’s dry, he picks his things up off the floor, and kisses Hux again.

“I’m going to go get my toothbrush. I mean… if you want me to uh..keep it in here?”

Hux chuckles. “You can keep your toothbrush wherever you like.” It doesn’t matter much to him. When Kylo leaves the bathroom, Hux begins brushing his teeth, enjoying the quiet moment to himself after such a pleasantly busy day. When he spits the foamy toothpaste into the sink and partially raises his head, he thinks he catches a glimpse of something behind him in the mirror -- a dark shape of a person. Hux is about to ask Kylo how he retrieved his things so quickly and quietly -- but when Hux truly looks up, he is alone.

Goosebumps tumble down Hux’s neck, a wash of cold air hitting him like a wave. Suddenly, as steamy as the bathroom was, it’s _freezing_. The towel he has tucked around his hips suddenly feels like not enough protection from the world.

He’s about to call it a night and book it out of the suddenly un-welcoming bathroom when the door slams in his face with a deafening noise.

Hux slowly backs away from it, wet feet sliding on slick tiles. He circles the moderately sized bathroom, keeping his back close to the wall, not entirely sure what he’s looking for -- not seeing anything, but knowing full well that he’s not alone. He wants to scream out for Kylo, but his voice catches in his throat.

His breathing is practically deafening, echoing loudly in his ears. The sounds of the house around him are gone -- all he can hear is his breath and his heartbeat, while he strains to listen for anything else, anything helpful at all.

That’s when it hits him.

Literally.

Hux goes flying, a sudden push straight to his ribs, that sends him straight against the door. His back hits it with a vicious thunk, and the back of his head slams against the wood with an unpleasant fierceness. His vision swirls for a moment, though he is pushing himself off the door before the blurriness of his vision fades completely.

Hux rips the door open with great difficulty, feeling something pulling and yanking on his arms while he does so. It feels like he’s trying to pry the door away from someone holding it closed with all their considerable body weight, even though no one is there. He bats at invisible hands that hold him, ignores claws that scrape and fingers that pull at his hair -- all the while, still wrestling with the door. It rattles in its hinges, fights against his strength. After what seems like an eternity, but couldn’t possibly be, the door flies open, nearly knocking Hux off his feet. Once he has his balance back, it doesn’t take him long to sprint through it and then his room, knocking right into Kylo as he appears in the doorway.

Kylo catches Hux, who promptly collapses against him, shaking violently and heart thundering against Kylo’s own chest. Hux’s fingers are cold claws in the bare skin of Kylo’s back. Hux’s breath is coming in great, terrified gasps, and he’s muttering _‘it’s in there, it had me, oh my god Kylo_ ,” and Kylo’s own pulse picks up. Already, there are reddening marks on Hux’s arms.

While there is definitely fear in his heart, more of what bubbles in Kylo’s blood is rage. “What the fuck do you want?” he yells, holding Hux protectively against him.

The house is silent.

Then from his room, the sound of his phone ringing. It’s Black Flag again.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Not sure about the AO3 error saying only one author wrote this chapter. We both wrote it.
> 
> *This was originally going to be 7 chapters, but this chapter got really long and we decided to split it up. Hopefully we'll have the second part out soon! Thanks everyone! 
> 
> NSFW

It’s not that Hux is a coward.

It’s just that it has been a long month and he has a lot of Marriott points that he really should be using. Why not spring for a nice hotel room when your house is haunted and your points are about to expire? It’s really the only logical solution.

Also, they have a free breakfast buffet and a hot tub.

Kylo has been using the pool, swimming laps to try and ease the tension in his spine. It looks like it’s been doing him some good, Hux thinks, watching the man towel off his hair after showering the chlorine out of it. Hux watches, unashamed, as Kylo tugs on trousers and a shirt and makes his way over to the small table in the corner of their suite where Hux has taken up shop. He has a nice spread -- enough space for his laptop and multiple notebooks, as well as a cup of tea. The beds are off to the side, separated by a small wall -- it’s homey enough, and the space doesn’t feel too cramped.

“You could have joined me,” Kylo says as he leans one hip against the chair across from Hux. The towel is still draped over his shoulders -- he looks relaxed, at ease. The way one does after a good exercise. Hux wishes he could feel that way, too. But he is still smarting marks from the attack in the bathroom, skin still marred by dark red scratches. They are healing now, but they are everywhere. Hux can barely look in the mirror without finding one -- he can’t even imagine shedding a shirt to take a few laps in the pool.

“Maybe next time,” is all Hux says. Both of them know it isn’t true, but somehow it makes Hux feel better pretending that maybe he is a little less affected by all of this than he actually is. He is a strong person, a steady individual -- he shouldn’t be so shaken.

“Would you like to order room service for dinner? I’m not sure I want to venture out.” He waves at the window, where the curtains are still pushed to the side. It’s drizzling outside, cold and dreary. The room is draped in the warm light of many lamps and Hux enjoys that, enjoys being bathed in welcoming brightness. He doesn’t want to be chilled to the bone.

Kylo frowns down at Hux in concern, reaching out to stroke one hand gently down his back, avoiding the places he knows there to be reddened welts from whatever thing had assaulted him in the house now left behind. Hux flicks him a glance which is full of trepidation, but his shoulders are back, posture straight, and he’s clearly trying valiantly to be strong about it. Kylo thinks he might love him for it.

“We could do room service,” he agrees, crossing the six feet or so to the bed and flopping down on top of the comforter. Propped on his side, Kylo rifles through the various pamphlets and laminated advertisements in the rack adorning the bedside table. Extracting a menu, he glances over it. “Come look at this with me.”

Hux leaves his work (which he has mostly just been rearranging into various piles) on the table and joins Kylo on the bed. Kylo makes a spot for him against his chest, wrapping his arm around him as he holds the menu where they can both see it. Pressing a kiss to Hux’s tousled hair seems the most natural action, as is twining their fingers together.

“Chocolate covered strawberries and champagne?” he suggests, even though that isn’t on the menu.

“Mm,” Hux hums. “Nutritious and delicious.”

He peruses the menu for a moment, then leans back against Kylo’s chest, nuzzling back against Kylo’s neck. “I think a burger sounds good. One of the really decadent ones. With fries.” It’s not what Hux normally eats, but it sounds good and indulgent. And right now, he’s willing to do whatever to take his mind off of the circumstances of his life.

“What about you?” Hux asks. He leans up to press a kiss to Kylo’s cheek before sighing and relaxing once again. “I’m glad we came here,” Hux says, quietly. It is truly a relief to be away from the house, from the place he was attacked. It feels good, feels like it’s a step in the right direction.

Kylo nods, running his hand through Hux’s hair and thinking how Hux had been naked and trembling like a leaf in his arms only a day before. Kylo had felt such rage, such fear, that anything would dare to try to harm Hux, and if he knew of some way to fight it, he would. But Hux had wanted to run, and Kylo couldn’t really blame him.

“Burgers sound good,” Kylo agrees, looking at them on the menu and picking one out. Hux nestles against him while Kylo orders from the front desk. He’s told it will take about thirty minutes, which is enough time to devote some attention to Hux.

After Kylo hangs up the phone, Hux shifts so that he is kneeling between Kylo’s stretched out legs. Kylo wraps his arms around Hux’s smaller frame and finds a place low on his back, safe, to hold him. Kylo kisses him, slow and easy, and Hux cannot help but melt into it, finding safety in the small gesture. It’s not much, but being held like this by Kylo is something of a comfort.

“The food is coming soon,” Hux warns Kylo, though he doesn’t stop kissing him, occasionally moving from his mouth to his jaw to his neck. He knows that nothing will get not nor heavy for the moment, but it is easy to just enjoy the moment for that it is -- a gentle reprieve.

Too soon, the food arrives.

“Christ, that smells sinful,” Hux says, after signing for the meal and tipping the staff member. They spread out on the table after Hux moves all his organized-and-reorganized piles of work, while Kylo throws the television onto a random channel. Hux had scooted the couch up to the table earlier so Kylo could sit beside him while he works, and their thighs touch, elbows brush as they eat.

Kylo is only half watching the TV show, unable to stop himself from worrying about what they are going to do. They can’t stay in this hotel forever, despite the fact that it’s nice to be on a sort of semi vacation with Hux. Kylo has to go back to work; he’s missed enough days since his father’s accident. While his boss is accommodating and compassionate, at some point there needs to be a safe expectation that they can count on Kylo to show up for his shifts.

Kylo’s eyes pause on the sight of his cell phone, which is sitting on the edge of the TV stand. By the time he’d set it to silent, early this morning, there were six missed calls, all from his father’s number, which didn’t exist any more, as far as Kylo knew. There are voicemails too, but Kylo cannot bring himself to listen to them.

He absently chews a french fry, and resolves that he should probably ask Rey to come over again. Perhaps there is more that she can do. Perhaps they need something more intense. An exorcism? No. That’s only for demons. Is that what they have? As he’s imagining that, picturing the shadowy figure they’d seen at the foot of his bed and feeling his blood pressure rise, the lamp on the bedside table flickers.

When the light flickers, Hux cannot help but startle. He has finished about half of his burger, while Kylo has finished the whole thing and has begin to go to town on his fries. But the light -- the light flickering has him losing his appetite entirely. But the nice atmosphere is not lost quite yet, and Hux knows that he would do just about anything to keep it that way.

So, he catches Kylo in a ketchup flavored kiss. It’s a distraction tactic, but not just for Kylo -- it’s for both of them. Hux needs to not think about the shit show that their life has been. He cups Kylo’s face in his hands and kisses him, losing himself in his sheer affection for this man who just suddenly fell into his life one day. It’s nigh impossible, but it’s Hux’s life now -- love and the supernatural and apparently staying in hotel rooms when things get bad.

“You are amazing,” Hux says, moving so that he can press kisses to Kylo’s jaw, to the sensitive place on his ear. “Despite everything, I’m glad we met.” Hux says. The lights stop flickering, or Hux stops noticing. Either way, Hux will take it.

Kylo’s heart swells, feeling too large for his chest, and he strokes a hand through Hux’s hair, holding Hux’s lips to his. “Do you think it’s fate?” he asks softly. Kylo isn’t sure that someone like Hux would believe in fate, but Kylo does. And Hux feels like his.

“I don’t know,” Hux answers truthfully. There’s little point in lying, anyway. He doesn’t necessarily think that they are star-crossed, but he cannot write it off as pure coincidence, either. He doesn’t know exactly how to explain it, but it feels right . More natural than any other relationship he’s ever had. The ease with which he fits with Kylo is extraordinary, even though the circumstances haven’t been the most comforting.

Hux leans into the hand in his hair, letting his eyes fall closed at the gentle touch. “Maybe it is. Who am I to question it if it is?” Truly an agnostic response, but from the heart.

Kylo kisses him again, smiling against his lips. “So you’re not going to kick me and my ghosts out?” It’s the first time he’s admitted aloud this might be all his fault. He looks at Hux with wide eyes, searching, and traces fingers from Hux’s hair down his throat, thumbing the top button of Hux’s shirt. He gets it open, walks his fingers down to the next one. They’d been too haggard and frightened the night before to do much more than sleep, but a full night of undisturbed rest has allowed life to seep back into Kylo’s body, and he wants Hux with a passion.

“I would prefer,” Hux says, shivering as Kylo gets his hands on his pale skin, “for you to kick the ghosts out. But if you are a package deal, I suppose I can reevaluate.” He would prefer, clearly, no ghosts at all -- but if he doesn’t get to have a say in that, they he will just have to deal. If anything, though, he would prefer nothing to attack him or Kylo at all. Quiet ghosts, he can deal with. Others? Not so much. But it is a conversation for another day, another time. Right now, with Kylo’s large hands roving over his torso, Hux can’t keep a sentence straight at all.

Hux tugs at Kylo’s shirt until it slips over his head, showing Hux once more the fine specimen of a man he landed himself. Kylo is so muscular, so chiseled -- it’s hard not to stare, not to touch him -- so Hux doesn’t stop himself. He lets his hands explore, finally unhurried and unfrantic.

Kylo groans softly at the feel of Hux’s hands on him. He gropes for Hux’s hips, pulls him close, guiding him into his lap. He feels so good against him, fits so perfectly with his narrow hips and his small waist and delicate bones. Kylo catches one wrist, kisses the thin skin of it, trails kisses up Hux’s arm, over the angry red scratches. He traces Hux’s collarbone with his lips, living for the way Hux purrs low in his throat, flicks his tongue over his pulse point. His fingers continue to unbutton Hux’s shirt until he can slip it back off his shoulders, delicate and freckled.

“God you’re gorgeous,” Kylo sighs. “Are you a dream?”

“Sure hope not,” Hux says, getting comfortable while he straddles Kylo’s lap. It’s delightful knowing that the other man is so much larger than him, but is willing to let Hux push him around, guide him and climb over him. He pulls on Kylo’s hair, hard, and catches his mouth in a hungry kiss. He can already feel himself getting hard, specifically because of the loving attention Kylo is devoting to his body. He’s never had anything like it before, and he’s not sure he could ever go back.

Hux breaks off the kiss and nips at Kylo’s earlobe. “Let me fuck you,” he says, no preamble necessary. He doesn’t think they need it, honestly. They’ve been building up to this moment for what feels like so long. “Or you can fuck me. Either or. I’m really not picky.” Either way, Hux wants this. He wants more than before, even if he’s being greedy asking for it.

He catches Kylo in a kiss again before letting the other man answer. Deep and hungry and needy. “Please?”

Kylo’s eyes go darker, pupils blown with lust, and he dips his head to taste the skin of Hux’s throat. His heartbeat is racing, imagining Hux working him open with those long, elegant fingers, and his voice quivers with need as he whispers in Hux’s ear.

“You can do anything you want with me.” He stops himself just before adding “I’m yours,” because he’s worried that’s too much, too soon, even though it’s completely true. Kylo thinks he might have belonged to Hux from the first moment the man had touched him.

It’s probably too much, but it’s just what Hux wants to hear. What he needs to hear. He needs this, this one moment with Kylo. “Fuck,” Hux says, his own head spinning with desire.

It takes a considerable amount of effort, but eventually Hux manages to pry himself off of Kylo. He pulls at the other man, taking his hand in his own, until they are both on top of the bed. A much better place to be than the small, cramped couch. Hux divests himself of his clothes while letting Kylo do the same. Naked, he crosses to his own suitcase. With a blush, he pulls out lube and condoms, which he tosses on the bed. “Not a word,” he says, clambering on top of a now-naked Kylo, shutting him up with a kiss.

Of course Hux is prepared. He hadn’t expected anything, but he also hadn’t wanted to be left needing them. Regardless -- he was glad now that he had brought them.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” Hux asks, kissing Kylo’s jaw.

Kylo is far too turned on by the fact that Hux anticipated this, planned for it, wanted him, that he can do little else but run his hands down Hux’s back, grip the firm cheeks of his ass. He doesn’t feel like he can possibly touch him enough, needs to possess him. Be possessed by him.

“I want you,” he rasps, seeking Hux’s lips with sloppy kisses over his cheek, teeth nipping at Hux’s jaw. He thrusts his hips up, erection sliding against the soft underside of Hux’s balls, pressing against his perineum and making him gasp. Kylo visualizes all the ways Hux could take him: on his knees, a hand wrapped around Kylo’s throat, fingernails in his back, moving up to tug his hair.

Kylo groans, squeezing Hux’s narrow hips so hard it may leave marks. More of them, for Hux’s pale body is already peppered with reddish scratches. But they are at least marks Hux would be proud to keep.

Hux slides back, first to just admire Kylo and his body. The man is flushed with arousal and it looks good on him, spreading over his muscles in the most glorious way. But Hux cannot go without touching for too long. Before he knows it, he’s pushing Kylo into a better position -- flipping him over so that he is on his knees with his ass in the air. It’s a bit self-serving, but Hux has never claimed to be an entirely selfless man.

He gets to watch every bit of Kylo like this, gets to admire the way his muscles play underneath his skin.

Hux slicks up his fingers, taking his time to warm the lube up with the heat of his hands. With one hand on the small of Kylo’s back to hold him steady, he leans forward and presses a kiss to Kylo’s spine. “Jesus, you’re perfect,” Hux says, running the slick pad of his finger around Kylo’s rim. When they have both relaxed more, Hux finally presses in -- slowly, teasingly, though he can only keep up that pace for so long. One finger leads to two, and then Hux is stretching Kylo, pulling moans from the other man while feeling his muscles relax underneath his fingers.

Kylo’s head droops, pressing into the cool cloth of the mattress, eyes lidding as he loses himself in the slick, sure press of Hux’s fingers. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like this, since he’s let himself be vulnerable this way. He cannot help rocking his hips toward Hux, meeting the thrust of his hand, eager for more as he begins to relax around the intrusion.

Kylo turns his head just enough to see Hux, who is concentrating fully on opening him, a tiny crease between his brows, his red hair falling around his face. Hux catches him looking, smiles as he smooths his hand down Kylo’s back, then drags his nails over the skin just softly enough that it tickles nerve endings, makes Kylo shiver with pleasure. Then Hux crooks his fingers inside him, and Kylo jerks with a gasp as Hux finds just the right spot .

Hux indulges Kylo for a long moment, making sure to pull long moans from him with the precise press of his fingers. He continues until Kylo is barely coherent, until Kylo’s fingers are grasping needily at the sheets below him. Kylo is ready and loose and open, and Hux is aching . “Are you ready,” he asks, slowly pulling his fingers from Kylo, watching greedily as the other man’s body responds to the stimulation.

When Kylo nods, Hux finds a condom to roll on. His cock is hard enough that even the slide of his fingers is a bit of relief. “Can you,” Hux presses a hand to Kylo’s flank, “can you roll over? I’d very much like to be able to kiss you while doing this.”

Kylo lifts himself to his knees, turns his body so that he’s facing Hux, and catches Hux by the hips, pulling them flush long enough to kiss him, hard, to reach around and squeeze Hux’s supple ass. He nips at Hux’s bottom lip, then Kylo let’s himself fall back, catching his weight on his elbows, thighs falling open, inviting.

Already, Kylo’s breathing is shallow, coupled with the rapid heart beat that throbs through his cock. Beside the bed, the lamp makes a low, electric buzz, but Kylo ignores it, too fixated on Hux. As Hux lowers his lithe body down against Kylo’s, Kylo tangles a hand in Hux’s soft hair and pulls their lips roughly together again.

“Jesus,” Hux says after pulling away, eyes looking over every inch of Kylo. He is truly magnificent; Hux is supremely lucky to be able to look, much less to touch.

Hux lines himself up, unwilling to tease neither Kylo nor himself, and slowly presses in. There is enough lube that the slide is easy, but Kylo is still tight enough to pull a groan from Hux as he tries to steady himself from moving too quickly. He has to fight against the instinct to buck his hips, to ease away the aching of his cock. Soon, though, he is fully surrounded by Kylo’s warmth.

It’s so much -- Hux has to kiss Kylo, has to find some way to steady himself. The kiss is hungry, affectionate, desperate -- all the things Hux wishes he could say, but has no words for.

“Fuck,” Kylo growls against Hux’s lips. He tries to return his kiss, but every subtlest shift of Hux’s body against his makes Kylo gasp. Kylo adjusts his hips, getting used to the stretch and the sensation of Hux filling him, rocks up experimentally and groans. “God, you feel good,” he says, voice hoarse with desire. Kylo pulls his legs up toward his chest, rocks his hips again, telling Hux silently to move.

When Kylo beings rolling his hips, Hux takes his cue to move. His thrusts start out slow and shallow, but within minutes he finds himself thrusting in earnest. He keeps his movements careful, not wanting to hurt Kylo in the slightest, wanting to give him the most pleasure possible. When Kylo shifts and groans, dragging his nails down Hux’s back, Hux knows he’s hit the right spot. He does his best to make sure to hit that spot on every thrust, desperate to drag every sound and gasp from Kylo.

Kylo tries to meet every thrust, the slap of flesh against flesh a sexy, obscene rhythm that makes him even harder. Every time Hux bottoms out, his taut belly rubs against Kylo's aching cock, and Kylo arches up, wanting more friction. He keeps his hands on Hux's back, not wanting to touch himself yet, because it would be over too quickly. Pre-come is sticky heat on his stomach, Hux's mouth is hot against his, their kisses broken and sloppy.

"Harder," Kylo gasps as Hux's cock drags again against his prostate, pleasure radiating up Kylo's spine. He wants more . He wants Hux to drive him to the edge and push him over it.

Hux is happy to oblige. He thrusts harder, deeper, fucking Kylo into the mattress with every ounce of himself. It feels blissful, amazing, absolutely perfect. The bed squeaks with their effort, the posters of it thudding bluntly up against the wall with every thrust. For once, Hux doesn’t care about anyone hearing -- all he can focus on is the pleasure of the man underneath him, the way Kylo’s hands slide over his sweaty back, the way they feel so close together, so connected.

Eventually, Hux works a hand in between them, wrapping slender fingers around Kylo’s length. It’s awkward, but he leans down to kiss Kylo again and loses himself in it. The kiss is messy, but so is the act -- there’s something hot about it, the desperate action of fucking into Kylo and stroking him off at the same time. Awkward, disjointed, entirely animalistic. “Fuck,” Hux breathes out, breaking the kiss to mouth at Kylo’s neck, to bite at his shoulder. “You feel so good.”

Kylos eyes are screwed shut, breath shallow. He tries at first to stay quiet as Hux begins fucking him in earnest, but he quickly starts to come apart as Hux drives in again and again. There's something so insanely hot about hearing the bed frame slap back against the wall, about the way it rocks beneath them with increasing tempo, about knowing anyone in the next room would know exactly what they are doing.

Hux's hand on his cock twists, strokes in time with his thrusts, and Kylo is close. “Nngf...Hux, ah… “ he grips Hux's arm with one hand, ready to pull him away, to stop him wringing Kylo’s orgasm from him, because suddenly he doesn't want it to end. But then Hux thumbs the swollen head, moves his wrist just so, and Kylo cries out instead, hips bucking up. No, they don't need to slow down. They can always do this again in a few hours. And then again after that.

“Hux… please,” Kylo pants into Hux's sweat - damp neck. “Please, I'm close.”

It’s probably a good thing. Hux is so close, so ready -- hell, he probably could have come within moments of even thinking about having sex with Kylo. The actual act, in and of itself, is incredibly arousing. Devastatingly so, actually. “Fuck,” Hux grits out, feeling his own pleasure beginning to crest. It is a threat -- a pleasant one, but still a threat. “Please, Kylo,” Hux begs, driving into him as hard as he can. He keeps stroking Kylo off, fervent and in time with his thrusts. “Please come, god, I want -- I want to see you come apart.” He wants to watch it, wants to watch Kylo come apart in his hands. He wants to know it’s because of him that Kylo is shuddering and moaning.

Kylo’s nails dig into Hux’s back, harder, all thought of the marks crisscrossing his skin abandoned. Hux implores him to let go, and he wants to. He’s so close. His balls feel tight, tingling, heat creeping up from his gut, the pressure building, building. And then it breaks. Kylo arches up, wrapping his calves around Hux, a shout torn from his throat as he pulses over Hux’s hand, spills across his chest. It seems like it will never end, this tidal wave of utter bliss, so intense that his eyes water and his vision goes dark. He hears himself saying Hux’s name, over and over in shallow moans.

“Oh fuck,” Hux groans as Kylo falls apart beneath him. He shakes and moans and clutches at Hux’s back in the most desperate of ways -- it is by far and truly the hottest thing that Hux has ever experienced. It doesn’t take much more than a couple more thrusts into Kylo’s tight warmth for his own pleasure to peak, before he feels the orgasm as it hits him -- hard. Hux shudders and buries his face in Kylo’s neck, riding out the waves as he kisses the warm skin there.

When Hux recovers slightly, he pulls himself up and catches Kylo, who is still panting, in a lazy kiss. Hux is overcome with a wave of affection strong enough that it has him grinning into the kiss itself. Eventually, he breaks the kiss and pushes himself back, as well as out of Kylo. He slides the condom from his softening length, ties it off, and tosses it into a nearby trash can. “My god,” he says. “You are amazing.”

Kylo feels a wide smile spreading on his face as well. His eyes are briefly closed as he pants, waiting for his breathing to return to normal. He swipes one hand languidly across his chest, over his stomach, slick with sweat and still-sticky come. He grunts, rolls over and grabs his t-shirt off the floor, wiping himself off.

“We should get in that jacuzzi,” he suggests to Hux, gazing at him fondly. Hux is flushed from his exertion, a pretty warm pink, and his green eyes are bright. Kylo’s chest twists, and he reaches out to stroke a hand up Hux’s thigh. He thinks to himself that he’s quite possibly very much in love with this man. 

Hux wipes his hand on the now defiled shirt, cleaning off the rest of Kylo’s spunk. He lets himself flop a bit to the side, though he keeps a hand on Kylo’s chest, fingers splayed. Underneath, he can feel the steady beat of Kylo’s heart. Fast, due to their previous exertion, but strong, unchanging. It is so settling, Hux cannot help but smile. “Yes, the jacuzzi sounds perfect.” He’d like an experience in a tub with Kylo that isn’t tainted by the supernatural.

Kylo rolls toward Hux, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. He kisses Hux softly, savoring him, hand gently tracing the lines of Hux’s back. Kylo feels light, like weights have been lifted, like he’s finally stumbled up out of the dark, violent ocean of his recent past onto solid ground.

“Hux,” he whispers against his lover’s lips, meaning to try to put words to these feelings. “I…”

He’s interrupted by the buzz of his phone, vibrating heavily against the nightstand, and it makes Kylo’s pulse jump. He levers himself up onto one elbow, reaches over Hux, and grabs it. The screen reads 000-000-0000 . Kylo’s brows draw down, and he cancels the call, tosses the phone away from them. It hits the carpet. It vibrates again, the sound muffled and more distant now. The lights flicker, and the lamp emits an electric whine.

Hux doesn’t need to ask to know what number showed up on the screen -- he knows by Kylo’s reaction just what it was. “Kylo,” he begins, aiming for words of comfort, but he startles suddenly. There -- he felt it -- the touch of something on his bare ankle. Hux immediately yanks his leg back from the phantom touch and curses. But before he can anything further, the lights don’t just flicker -- they go out completely with a loud pop .

Hux does not let himself panic. He moves his hand to Kylo’s arm for his own comfort, his own sanity. It’s going to be fine . He takes in one careful breath, then another. Nothing happens.

He opens his mouth to say something, to offer a reassuring word to Kylo -- but he is stopped. Everything happens all at once. First, Hux feels the cool press of something wrapping around his ankle -- firm, solid, freezing -- like fingers. Second, he hears himself curse, feels his hand gripping tightly against Kylo’s arm. Third, before he can truly register what is happening, he is being yanked backwards, away from Kylo. Whatever is pulling him is strong -- in one solid pull, he is halfway across the bed, trying desperately to grab at the sheets, at Kylo, at anything to keep him on the bed . But it all seems futile. In the blink of an eye, Hux feels himself being yanked even harder. “Kylo!” Hux gasps, fear rendering him nearly speechless.

The darkness in the room is total, as though it’s not just an absence of light, but an otherworldly shroud. At first, Kylo’s mind cannot wrap around what is happening, as sensations tumble over him: Hux’s hand on his arm, then suddenly pulled away, the panicked clutch of his fingers as Hux tries to grab onto him, the sheets moving, being jerked down the bed as Hux’s weight shifts. When Hux calls his name, voice high and reedy with fear, Kylo finally reacts.

Lunging forward, he gropes blindly in the darkness, finding nothing at first, panicking, then his fingers graze skin, and Hux says his name again while snatching at Kylo’s hand. Kylo grabs him, and immediately feels him being tugged away, but Kylo gets another hand around Hux’s other arm, holding tightly. Whatever held him seems to lose control, then. Toward the foot of the bed is a low, menacing sound, a growl, and the room is frigid, permeated by a heavy, toxic feeling of rage .

“What the fuck are you?” Kylo shouts, and Hux whimpers, clawing at him as Kylo pulls him into his arms. Hux is trembling violently, breath loud in the dark. The bed shifts, depresses, like something heavy has climbed onto it, and Kylo’s heart leaps to his throat. He tries to back away, inhibited by Hux’s weight in his arms, then spasms with shock when his phone rings. It’s Black Flag, his father’s ring-tone.

The weight on the bed vanishes, and the lights flicker, buzz, and finally come on fully. Kylo is staring at the end of the mattress, where he’d felt the movement, but there is nothing there. Han’s ringtone keeps playing in the background. Kylo lets it play, too shaken to move to answer it. He’s clutching Hux tightly in both arms, has a leg wrapped around him. Finally tearing his eyes away from the empty space at the foot of the bed, he tries to look down at Hux, whose face is pressed against his shoulder.

“Hux...baby... are you ok?” Kylo lifts a trembling hand to push Hux’s hair back from his forehead, gets two fingers beneath his jaw to lift his face up.

Hux is by far not okay . He has never been so not okay in his entire life. He can barely breathe, not to mention the fact that he still can feel the phantom touch of those icy fingers around his ankle. No matter how much he rubs it, the feeling doesn’t go away.

But Hux doesn’t want to admit to not being fine -- it’s obvious, anyway. And he isn’t about to lie. So, he says simply: “I think we need to call your cousin. Immediately.”

Kylo considers this briefly, eyes flicking back to the end of the bed, then again to his lover, who suddenly seems so fragile. “No,” he says solemnly. “I think we we need to go see my uncle.”

 

 

Kylo ends up driving Hux’s car, as Hux is too shaken. Against his better judgment, Kylo keeps only one hand on the wheel while the other rests on Hux’s thigh. Their things had been packed in a hurry and simply tossed into the backseat, and they’d offered no explanation for why they were checking out a day ahead of schedule.

Kylo is not thrilled about going to see Luke; they’d fallen out after an aborted summer stay during Kylo’s teenage years. In retrospect, the whole affair had been rather ridiculous. Kylo had been young, full of angst, and constantly looking for a fight. Kylo had spent years afterward waiting for Luke to apologize, but it never came. By the time Kylo realized that Luke had no reason to apologize, that the fault had been his, he had been simply too ashamed and embarrassed to approach him.

He knows, however, that if anyone can help them now, Luke can. Whatever gifts Kylo or Rey might have in their family, Luke far exceeds. And Kylo is desperate now, enough to go and face his uncle and apologize for not apologizing, and beg his forgiveness; he’ll do anything to make whatever is happening to them stop, to keep it from tearing he and Hux apart.

While Kylo contemplates logistics and his family history, Hux spends most of the car ride tense, trying not to think of anything much. He lets his mind drift only to Millicent, about how Phasma is taking care of her for a couple days. She had kindly let Hux and Kylo drop her off in the middle of the night, just so that she would be one less concern. At the time, Hux had been unwilling to give her over, but now he is even glad. It’s too much stress for Hux to be being uprooted every moment; he cannot even imagine trying to put Millicent through it.

He imagines her sitting pretty on Phasma’s plush chez lounge, where she keeps a sheepskin throw that Millicent adores. There, Millicent will be happy, until this problem is resolved.

They get to Kylo’s uncle’s house before Hux is thoroughly ready for it, his heart still thudding heavily in his chest. When Luke answers the door, he doesn’t look surprised -- he just opens it wider and gestures them inside. “Ben,” he says. “Please come in.”

Kylo makes the appropriate introductions as they file into a sitting room. Luke gives them both tea and settles into a chair across from the couch, where Kylo and Hux are sitting, thigh to thigh.

“Something’s wrong,” Luke says.

Kylo inhales a shaky breath, reaching out compulsively to twine his fingers with Hux’s. He sees Luke’s eyes shift to their hands briefly, then back to Kylo’s face.

“Something has been … happening,” Kylo begins. “Ever since I moved in with Hux … I mean...” he glances at Hux quickly. “...ever since I started renting the room there. Um... a few weeks ago.”

It’s true. It really has only been a few weeks. A few weeks since Kylo was adrift and alone that seem like an eternity past. Hux returns his glance and squeezes his hand encouragingly, though his expression remains uncertain and afraid.

“You have nothing to fear here,” Luke says, reading Hux’s body language as well as Kylo does. They both look at him, and Luke takes an impassive sip of tea. He glances at Kylo. “Though I do sense a disturbance in your energy, Ben.”

Kylo huffs. Disturbance, indeed. And Luke is officially blaming him for it, just as Kylo had suspected. It makes his pulse climb, the sudden fear that this is something attached to him that he can’t escape, that will keep him from finding peace with Hux.

Hux puts a soothing hand on Kylo’s knee -- or what he hopes is soothing, anyway.

“I need your help,” Kylo says. When Luke nods, Kylo continues. “I need you to come back to Hux’s house and help me take care of it. Rey tried, but it didn’t work.” Not for long, anyway.

Luke is quiet for a moment, simply looking at Kylo and Hux. “The problem isn’t at the house, Ben.” He appears to think, choosing his words carefully. “I said there was a disturbance in your energy -- I meant that this thing, whatever is bothering you -- well, it appears to have grown a connection to your energy. There is something near you, feeding off of you.”

“ What ?”

“This is -- this is something that happens to people like us, people with sensitivity. Malicious energies can find us, and can begin to grow parasitic.” When Luke sees Kylo’s face, struck with horror and guilt and anger, he quickly continues, aiming for reassurance. “This is nothing that you did, Kylo. This is not your fault.”

Kylo opens his mouth to ask a question, but Luke continues.

“There’s something else,” Luke says. “I sense something else.”

Kylo draws a blank at first, and then starts to piece things together. The footprints following along beside his in the snow, the door to the basement opening when Kylo begged for help, the phone calls.

“Dad…” he says, feeling Hux look at him.

Luke registers the cryptic response, head tilted. Then he smiles sadly. “Yes. I believe that’s it. Has he …. tried to contact you?”

Kylo wants to deny it, impulsively, but realizes he can’t lie with Hux sitting here. Slowly, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, thumbs the voicemail screen open, and shows Luke the numerous messages. They are all the same length: four minutes, the maximum allowed for a voicemail.

Luke’s eyes move from the screen to Kylo’s face. “Listen to him, Ben.”

Kylo doesn’t want to listen. He hasn’t wanted to since the beginning, but he’s here for Luke’s help, and he’s desperate. He glances at Hux for reassurance.

Hux just nods. He feels out his depths, but he also knows that this is important. Hux could walk away, could never have to deal with this again -- but for Kylo, this is his life. And, even though they have theoretically just met, Hux wants to be a part of it. For however long possible. So he gives Kylo’s knee a reassuring squeeze. “Give them a listen. I’ll be right here.” He moves his hand, seeking out Kylo’s. When his finger’s find Kylo’s warmth, Hux holds his hand in his, tight. “You can put it on speaker and we can listen together, if you’d like.”

Luke shifts. “I can give you privacy if you want. But you must listen to the messages, Ben. If your father is trying to communicate with you, it’s likely very important.”

Kylo stares at Luke for a moment, but decides he doesn’t want to be alone for this. Sighing deeply, he turns his phone to speaker, clicks the first voicemail, and lays it on his knee. Tightening his fingers around Hux’s, he waits.

For a moment there is nothing, just empty space, and Kylo deflates a bit, starting to think perhaps all this time it had been nothing more than a service provider error. But then at thirteen seconds, there is a sound like a radio dial being tuned back and forth past a station that is too far away, indistinct sounds fading in and out until the sound finally clears and he can hear a voice. He knows it instantly, Han’s voice. It’s much clearer this time than that first message. He feels Luke’s eyes on him, and he glances up, wearing an expression that says, in his mind, see? I told you. Luke merely raises an eyebrow. Hux squeezes his hand.

“Kid ,” his father’s voice says. “ You always think your mom and I don’t understand you. We do. We’re proud of you, Ben. Always have been, always will be. Listen. I’m not good at this kind of shit. Just come home, Ben. You don’t have to keep running away. We love you. Please just come home.”

Halfway through the message, Kylo recognizes it, and his eyes begin to swim. It’s the same message that had been garbled at Rey’s house, snippets of it, but more than that, it’s the last message that Han had left him the night he died, hours before Kylo had picked him up. Kylo had listened to it at the hospital, when it had been too late to respond.

The message repeats itself on a loop, punctuated by the same static, searching dial tone, as if each time some channel needs to be picked up. When it ends, Kylo clicks the next one with shaking fingers, vision blurred. Part of him longs for only dead space, and part of him wants to hear Han’s voice telling him what to do, how to fix things. The message, however, are all the same. Telling Kylo to just come home.

While Kylo listens, Hux rubs soothing circles on Kylo’s back. Smoothing out all the creases on his shirt, trying to brush away the sadness he knows Kylo feels. It’s the sort of thing, so raw and highly emotional, that makes Hux miss his own parents. He never had to deal with tragedy this great, this painful, but he misses them all the same. He cannot even imagine the guilt and sadness that has taken over Kylo right now. It’s all he can do to simply be there as support, a solid figure along the way.

“Ben,” Luke says, breaking through the silence that fills the space after Kylo plays each and every message. They are all the same. “I don’t believe that this is a coincidence that these are all the same.”

Kylo looks up and Hux’s hand settles on Kylo’s shoulder, fingers squeezing comfortingly.

“I believe,” Luke continues, “that Han is telling you to go home even now.”

Kylo frowns, having reached that same conclusion. He hasn’t been home since the funeral, has only talked to his mother briefly. He knows he should, and he’s known that for months, but he’s afraid of what Leia will say to him, of seeing the hurt in her eyes and, possibly, the blame.

Kylo settles back on the couch, grateful for the way Hux’s arm curls around his back. Kylo leans into him, allowing himself to be comforted. “I don’t know what to say to her,” he admits to Luke, voice thick.

Luke sets his tea down and folds his hands, looking at Kylo with empathy. “She’s your mother, Ben. Just tell her you love her. Nothing else is necessary. She doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

Kylo swallows, picking at the fabric of Hux’s pants’ leg anxiously. “How do you know?”

“I talk to her?” Luke sighs. “You are too hard on yourself, Ben. What happened to you and to Han was tragic. Could it have been avoided? Maybe. But also very possibly not. You’ve turned everything inward. The grief, the regret, the doubt. It’s festering inside you, giving root to dark things. You need to let all that go if you want to be free of what’s happening to you.”

Kylo is silent for a moment, forcing himself to look inward, forcing himself to feel the turmoil that lies just below the surface. It’s like a hot iron, piercing his chest, and he blinks away tears. Somehow, talking about this with family, with someone that had known Han, makes everything so much more real.

“I also believe,” Luke says, “that once you process and let go of your grief, the malignant spirit that is drawn to your negative emotions will no longer have a hospitable atmosphere around you. It will likely leave, especially if...given a bit of encouragement. I’m more than happy to help, in that regard.” Luke looks hopeful, but not overbearing. “If you would let me.”

Hux rests his palm on Kylo’s neck. “Kylo,” he says, also trying not to be hugely cavalier. He knows this isn’t his place, that he hasn’t known Kylo long enough to make decisions for him. But he also knows that Kylo must do this, and he knows that if this were his life, he’d want Kylo by his side to make it easier. “You need to go home. See your mother. It’s the only way. I’ll come with you,” he offers, hoping it will make the experience a bit more palatable. “It will be okay. You’ve made it this far.”

Luke nods from across the living room. “I’m very proud of you, Ben. And I am extremely thankful you came to me. I’m happy to help in any way you’d like.”

Kylo hesitates a moment longer, but then glances at Hux, whose eyes are round and earnest. He thinks of the future they could possibly have together, the future he desperately wants, and how perhaps the thing standing in the way of that is his own stubbornness and fear. He finds Hux’s hand, squeezes it, then he nods at Luke.

“Okay.” There’s no other answer. Perhaps, for once, his father is right.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end. We're both a mix of proud that we created this, and sad that it's over. We hope you have enjoyed this as much as we have. Thanks to everyone that has read along. 
> 
> Chapter is by both authors. Please ignore AO3.

A half hour after leaving Luke's house, Kylo pulls Hux’s car into the driveway of his childhood home. It’s a modest split level with a blue door and a sequoia towering over it from the back yard. Kylo sits behind the wheel after he kills the ignition, staring at the back of his mother’s Honda where it’s parked ahead of them. He suddenly wonders if he should have called first, but it’s too late for that. 

Luke had offered to go with them, but in the end, Kylo had declined. They promised to call him afterward, to discuss just exactly what they needed to do.

Hux had been mostly silent on the trip, just asking a few polite questions about Kylo’s mother, such as her name, and what she did for a living. He’d kept a comforting hand on Kylo’s knee as they drove. 

Kylo attempts to offer Hux a grateful smile, but it feels more like a grimace on his lips.  “What if this doesn’t work?” he asks miserably. 

“It will,” Hux says. It has to.

Hux has never been one for putting much stock in  _ hope _ \-- but he can’t help but do so now. Hope is what they have and hope is what will get them through this. Hope, and each other, anyway.

They both climb out of the car, the sound of their doors echoing closing behind them in the quiet neighborhood.

At the door, Hux takes Kylo’s hand and waits for him to ring the doorbell, giving him all the time he needs. He admires the rhododendrons potted next to the door as Kylo takes a few deep breaths and eventually presses a fingertip to the doorbell. The chime echoes pleasantly throughout the house, muffled.

The door opens slowly, then all at once. Hux sees a short woman with greying hair, eyes wide and fixed on Kylo. She looks kind, but also authoritative. She reminds him, instantly and crushingly, of his own mother.

“ _ Ben _ ?” She says, standing stock-still in the doorway.

Kylo is frozen for a long space of seconds, not knowing what to say to her. A thousand things fly through his mind, and are sorted and promptly discarded. Finally, he settles on something safe:

“Hi Mom.” 

His mother stares back, lips parted, also silent. She glances at Hux, then back to Kylo. “Are you ok? Is everything all right?” Her words are slightly breathless, laced with worry.

“I’m fine,” Kylo assures her, reaching out and giving her upper arm an awkward squeeze. She’s lost weight, and her eyes are smudged with dark circles. They start to fill with tears then, which Kylo can’t bring himself to look at, so he releases Hux’s hand and steps forward and gathers Leia in a smothering embrace. 

She stands stiffly in the circle of his arms for a moment, then wraps him in a hug that nearly crushes the air from his lungs. Kylo can feel her quivering, can feel the dampness from her tears through his shirt. He holds her until she finally pats his back, pulling away just enough to look up at him. Though her eyes are still wet, she’s smiling. 

“Well, did you come by to tell me you ran off to Vegas and got married to a pretty red-head?” she jokes, glancing at Hux.

Hux tries to fight the blush that rises on his cheeks. There is something about Leia, even though he doesn’t know her, that just screams  _ mother _ \-- and thus, with it, embarrassment at being teased. It’s not unpleasant, though -- it makes Hux feel warm, welcome. 

It is a gratifying distraction from watching both of them start to fall apart in front of his eyes. Even if Kylo isn’t crying, Hux can see it in his posture, can tell that he is more fragile now than Hux has ever seen him.

“Hello,” Hux says, feeling keenly aware of his own accent. “I’m Armitage Hux, Kylo’s --.” He pauses then, unsure of what to say. He is Kylo’s landlord, yes, but now he knows they are much more than that. They had only just talked about it in the bathtub -- Hux hasn’t had too long to actually  _ consider _ his relationship to Kylo, even though it feels like it’s been ages, with everything that’s happened. “I’m Kylo’s boyfriend.” Hux finishes, trying not to rush through the words. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Leia smiles, then releases Kylo and pulls Hux in for a hug, surprising him. She glances between them, afterward. “Are you going to stay? We could have some lunch? I can make sandwiches.” Before either of them have a chance to answer in the affirmative, Leia turns and goes back into the house, looking over her shoulder to ensure that they are following. 

Kylo gives Hux a glance and a small smile, reaching out to take his hand again as they go inside the house and shut the door behind them. Kylo instantly notices that everything is dark; the curtains are all closed, the lights off. It’s not like his mother, unless she’s feeling depressed. He instantly feels guilty.

Hux follows as Kylo pulls him into the kitchen, trailing after Leia. He notices, after a moment, the tell-tale clicking-clattering of nails on a wooden floor, and soon they both are ambushed by a short dark shape, bouncing excitedly underneath them: a small dog, greeting them as they walk into the kitchen, which seems to be the only well-lit room in the house.

“Hello,” Hux says, in a gentle voice he reserves only for animals. Once in the kitchen he stoops down to greet the dog, which he can now see is a handsome French bulldog. He keeps ahold of Kylo’s hand as he does so, though. “Aren’t you well mannered,” he says, noting that the dog didn’t rush the door as they came in, but waited quietly in its domain of the kitchen before it greeted them.

Leia laughs, a pleasant sound in the quiet of the house. “That’s Gary. He got all the manners that Ben didn’t. He even wipes his paws before he comes inside.” She smiles and puts a cautious hand on Kylo’s arm. “But I still have my favorite, anyway. Don’t tell Gary, but he has terrible breath.”

Hux stifles a laugh and pats Gary on the head. Seeing him makes Hux miss Millicent. 

“Now,” Leia says, before either of them can say anything else. “I have all sorts of fixings for sandwiches. Ben, do you still like cracked-pepper turkey and cheddar cheese? I also have honey-smoked ham, roast beef, and bologna. Armitage, what would you like?”

Somehow, Hux thinks, Leia is prepared to host a feast. Even though she is the only one at home. It hurts, in a hollow-chest sort of way, to realize that. “I’m happy with whatever Kylo is having,” Hux says.

“Whatever you make is fine, Mom,” Kylo says, settling into a chair at the kitchen island. He thinks for a moment of telling Leia everything, about the phone calls from his father, the terror he and Hux have endured, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can sense the burden of grief that weighs on her, the one that he, as her son, should have helped to bear. He can’t add to that.

“So, how did you two meet?” Leia asks, keeping the topic light as she takes out baggies of sandwich meats, cheese, and also condiments. 

“I um… rented a room in his house, and well…” Kylo blushes, loathe to go into sort of detail such as he’d been renting that room for just weeks before he’d ended up in bed with his landlord. “I went back to work too. Things are good.”

Leia takes a loaf of bread down from the cabinet, giving Kylo a sad smile. “I’m glad, honey. I’ve missed you.” 

Kylo is grateful that she doesn’t berate him for his long absence, though he deserves it.

Hux watches Leia as she prepares the sandwiches for the three of them with the meticulous care that only mothers have. Leia’s house, despite the darkness, feels welcoming and homey. The kitchen, the heart of the house, feels even more that way, and Hux cannot help but be immediately comforted by it. He pushes a foot up against Kylo’s after sitting down next to him, and settles a hand off his chair to give Gary some head-scratches. 

“You two seem very happy together,” Leia says, after putting the sandwiches down on the kitchen table and sitting down across from them. “I’m proud of you, Ben. You seem -- better. Happier. And I know your father would be proud too.” She looks sad, Hux thinks, with unshed tears in the corners of her eyes -- but also happy. She looks like she is glad for the company. 

“I don’t suppose I have to tell you, Armitage, to be careful with my boy, do I? He may seem big -- he’s been taller than me since he was twelve -- but he has a gentle soul.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hux says. He couldn’t imagine hurting Kylo, not in the beginning, but certainly not after all they’ve been through together. “I’m quite fond of him.”

Kylo’s cheeks warm at that, and he puts a hand on Hux’s thigh, massaging it before recalling that he’s in his mother’s kitchen and opting to rest it on Hux’s knee instead. He picks up a handful of chips with the other hand and chews before adding: “I’m sorry for not coming over sooner. I just …”

“It’s ok, Ben,” Leia interrupts gently. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.” 

They finish their sandwiches and chat about the mundane, the kind of small-talk conversation that Kylo once found irritating and tiresome, but now feels intensely comforting. Leia talks about taking some time off work and going on a trip overseas, and Kylo shyly mentions wanting to go back to school. They exchange stories about Gary and Millicent. Throughout, Kylo is trying to think of some way to bring up what’s happened, because the more he considers it, the more it feels wrong to keep it from her. Hiding what he’s been going through from his mother, and his family in general, is part of what has caused this problem. Or at least that is what he believes that Luke was trying to tell him. 

He takes a drink of his root beer, clears his throat. “So um...there’s something else I should tell you, mom. It’s kind of … I don’t know.” He looks at Hux as though that will supply the right adjective for what they’ve been experiencing. 

Hux doesn’t know, either. 

It suddenly feels so extraordinary, all they’ve been going through. Absolutely unbelievable.

“Strange?” Hux supplies, after a moment’s thought. He imagines trying to explain this to his own parents, but he knows that if they were alive, they would only scoff and tell him to grow up. He thinks, however, that it’s more likely that Leia might actually believe them, given Luke and Rey’s talents. Hux doesn’t know where Leia falls in all of this, but he still airs on the side of caution, anyway.

“When Kylo moved in with me, well -- strange things began happening. First, it was small, easily written off.” Hux pauses for a moment, not keen on reliving most of it, but knowing he must. But talking to Leia is easy, just as easy as it had been to talk with Luke or Rey -- and also Kylo. Perhaps it is a family trait. Hux continues, pressing forward: “When all of my kitchen furniture stacked itself precariously in the middle of my kitchen, I knew something was...not right.” He pauses again to let Kylo take over, not wanting to monopolize their shared horror. At least together, it seems not as much of a burden to shoulder.

Kylo studies his mother’s face as Hux tells the story, seeing that it registers no shock or horror, which he takes as a good sign. Honestly, he’d expected that much. Leia has always been tough, not like him. 

As Hux pauses, glancing at him, Kylo clears his throat and picks up the tale. “We started … seeing stuff, after that. First was this … figure. At the foot of the bed. We --” Kylo pauses, thinking to begin explaining how they’d come to be sleeping in the same bed several days after meeting, but decides that will be more awkward than just letting his mother assume. “Um, it was the same thing I saw here, a few times. If you remember.” 

Leia nods, and for a moment there is a distant look in her eyes. She’s remembering, perhaps, the times that Kylo had run to her, terrified in the middle of the night, shaking and insisting there was something in his room. The first time had been when he was six, the day after Leia and Han had gotten into one of their worst fights and Han had stormed out, not returning that night. Kylo had been frightened, sure his father was never coming back. Later, he’d seen the same apparition when he started a new middle school, where he was relentlessly picked on for his big ears and his quiet, awkward nature. Then again in high school the night after his first girlfriend broke up with him and called him a slur in the hallway in front of all her friends. Kylo hadn’t told Leia about that last one, though. 

“Anyway,” he continues. “There were other things. Lights going on and off. The doorbell ringing with no one there. Then we got locked in the basement. And footprints in the snow. And then…” he reaches out and brushes Hux’s arm. “Something attacked Hux. In the bathroom. And then later it tried to pull him off the bed.” 

“That,” Hux fills in, “was not very pleasant.” He still had the bruises and scratches to prove it. 

Leia, to her credit, just nods. “So, whatever it is has gotten worse. I am assuming that you’ve been to see Luke?” 

Hux nods. “Rey, first. Then Luke, when the problem wasn’t fixed.” Hux remembers the false calm like an unfortunate dream. It had felt so real, but had been broken so quickly, so terribly. The false hope had been terrible, but it feels like they are getting somewhere now.

“I’m so proud of you, Ben.” Leia says, looking at her son with a soft sort of fondness that makes Hux’s chest clench. It’s the sort of forgiving expression that only mothers wear, when they’re just happy their children have come home. “I’m here for you, I want you to know that. I always am.”

Kylo feels warm, like he’s just come in from a chilling winter wind to the comfort of a blanket around his shoulders and a roaring fire in a familiar hearth. He wants to hang on to that, this special strength that his mother lends him, not to dash it as he feels he must if he is to be fully truthful. Again, he glances at Hux for reassurance, and receives a small smile in return. 

Looking back to Leia, he sighs. “I know you’re here for me, mom. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when I should have been.” He sees Leia take a breath, likely to refute this or tell him it’s ok, but it’s not, so Kylo reaches out and takes her hand and squeezes, continuing before she can speak.

“Even dad has been telling me it wasn’t ok. That I needed to come home.” 

Leia’s forehead creases, her lips tucking into a frown of confusion. With his free hand, Kylo tugs his phone out of his pocket, taps it, and once again sets the voicemails to play on speaker phone. 

Leia says nothing as they play, but Kylo feels her hand go ice cold in his, though it remains steady; his mother has never been afraid of anything. After the third time the message repeats itself, Leia takes a deep breath.

“That enough,” she says softly. “Please.” 

The grief written clearly in Leia’s face. It makes Hux’s stomach clench. He knows a wound when he sees one. Healing as it may be, it is still clearly raw and tender to the touch. He remembers, clear as day, drinking whiskey in the middle of his kitchen in the early hours of the morning out of his father’s favorite glass. It had been six months since his father died at that moment, and it still felt like prodding at raw, new skin. He cannot imagine a partner being taken away too soon, cannot imagine it if the relationship wasn’t as strained as his and Brendol’s had been.

Hux threads his fingers through Kylo’s and squeezes -- because he wants the comfort and he knows that Kylo probably does as well. If he could comfort Leia, he would. For now, this is the best he can do.

“But I’m here for you now, too.” Kylo says to Leia, squeezing Hux’s hand. 

Hux watches her smile, watches as the grief fades a little into the fringes of her face. It’s clear that love and adoration drive it away. “I know, Ben. Thank you. I’m so glad you came.” 

She clears her throat -- and with that, the whole feeling in the room changes. Everything brightens.

“Now,” Leia says, leaning forward, “tell me about the two of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The grass of the cemetery is crisp and frosty under Kylo’s feet. The air is fresh and clear, but not biting. His breath comes out in cloudy puffs in front of him, escaping with each step he takes.

The cemetery itself is old and beautiful, with a great expanse of gentle hills and valleys, speckled with tombstones, monuments, and small mausoleums. There are ancient trees stretching tall, as well as freshly planted saplings. In the spring, Kylo thinks, it must be beautiful with buds and blossoms and blooms all around. Even in the winter it has its own beauty -- stark and ethereal and quiet. 

He follows a few paces behind Leia, letting her lead the way through rows of unfamiliar tombstones. Had he come here alone, he thinks it might have taken him hours to find his father’s grave. He would have been lost in the garden of death, wandering the rolling hills until he finally found his way. Even then, with hours under his skin and cold seeping into his veins, he thinks he wouldn’t have been quite ready for his intended destination. It’s better this way, following his mother on the most direct path to the grave. This way there is no avoidance -- just acceptance. 

It comes all too soon. 

Kylo sees the headstone and simply  _ knows _ , even before he gets a chance to read the name. It’s in an older part of the cemetery, surrounded by more ancient graves, most of its neighboring tombstones chipping with age and forgotten by families past. But Han’s grave is in the middle of it all, new and pristine. It’s simple and plain. Very Han Solo. The fact of it makes Kylo smile.

Clearly Leia has been keeping up the plot. As well as the two to the left -- Kylo’s grandparents. There are fresh flowers in faces against each of the tombstones -- a different bouquet for each. Baby’s breath and lilies and hydrangeas and -- 

It’s -- it’s a lot.

Kylo swallows. And swallows again, trying to keep the tight lump in his throat from choking him.

Hux is waiting in the car, Kylo reminds himself, tilting his head up to the sky. He feels the biting sting of tears in his eyes, blinking them stubbornly away. Hux is waiting for him and Kylo doesn’t want to return with red eyes and heaving breaths. He knows he  _ could _ , that Hux wouldn’t judge -- but the simple fact that he is there, only a minute’s walk away, gives Kylo the strength he needs to push past the tears.

Kylo closes his eyes against the pale blue of the winter sky and takes a breath.

After a moment, he feels the warmth of a hand taking his-- his mother’s hand, slipping between his fingers and holding tight.

She doesn’t say anything. Neither does he.

They stand for a long time in comfortable silence. Kylo, with his eyes closed -- then open and focused on Han’s grave in silent conversation.

In the end, Kylo isn’t sure how much time has passed. It doesn’t feel like too long, but when he looks around, blinking the blurriness from his eyes, the shadows have shifted slightly on the ground. 

He feels lighter. More at peace.

“Ready?” Leia asks.

“Yeah,” Kylo answers. He finds his voice is stronger than he would have expected.

When they join Hux at the car, they are still holding hands.

* * *

 

By the time they return to Leia’s home, the late autumn sun is beginning to sink below the horizon, the air turning chilly as clouds roll in. The last thing Kylo wants to do is go back to the house he shares with Hux at night, just after visiting his father’s grave. He’s terrified of anything happening to Hux, and although it’s clear that the paranormal activity is not confined to that house alone, Kylo has tremulous confidence that they will be safe in his childhood home. If for no other reason than that it  _ feels _ safe, and that feeling is like a shield. 

It’s only fair, Kylo reasons, that he put up just a token protest when Leia pulls out the photo albums, which happens rather quickly after it’s decided they’ll stay the night in Kylo’s old room. Kylo makes iced tea and then sits and watches Leia embarrass him with pictures of big-eared, snaggle toothed Ben Solo doing everything from fishing to playing Frank N. Furter in the Rocky Horror Picture Show when he was in eleventh grade. 

While it’s embarrassing, it’s also bitter-sweet because there are the inevitable pictures of Han, but they manage to speak of him only fondly, remembering his lame dad jokes and his great smile. Once, as Leia is pointing at a picture of them at their cabin, Kylo feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, turning to look behind him because he’s sure he’s being watched. But there is no one there.

They stay awake talking until late that night. They eat popcorn and ice cream for dinner, and then tuck themselves in. Leia offers to surrender her room for the two men, but Kylo declines, and he and Hux end up sharing Kylo’s lumpy twin sized mattress. It’s a tight fit with both of them so tall, but holding Hux close feels good, and the house feels peaceful. It’s the best night’s sleep either of them have gotten in weeks.

The next morning they wake to find Leia making waffles and Luke eating a banana at the kitchen table. He looks over his copy of the morning paper at Kylo. 

“Rey and Finn are on their way. After breakfast we’ll all go over to the house and work some Skywalker magic on it.” He flashes a calm smile at Hux. “Hello again.” 

“Good morning,” Hux says, tipping his head at Luke, and then at Leia. He feels like he  _ should _ feel awkward in his boyfriend’s house, padding into Leia’s kitchen in stocking feet and still a bit sleep-rumpled around the edges -- but he doesn’t. Kylo’s family is so overwhelmingly and unapologetically  _ welcoming _ that it is hard to feel anything other than comfortable. Hux has never spent the night at a significant other’s parent’s house before -- but he would have expected something more similar to his own upbringing: awkward and stilted.

This -- this is a pleasant surprise.

Hux brushes his fingers over Kylo’s shoulder blades as he pours them both coffee. They sit around the table and eat waffles with too much syrup and some whipped cream for the truly decadent. 

For a while, it is easy to forget what is looming over them, that they will soon be in Hux’s house to face the beast. 

When Rey and Finn arrive, they join in the breakfast exces. The atmosphere around the table becomes so light and airy and  _ happy _ that Hux feels himself growing calmer, stronger. He feels safer, so protected around these people.

_ We can do this _ , he thinks, taking Kylo’s hand under the table.  _ We can do this _ . At last, surrounded by what feels startlingly like family, it feels like a task that they can face.

 

* * *

Hux’s house still manages to seem intimidating when they arrive in the late morning. Three cars pull into the driveway, and Kylo steps out of the passenger door of Hux’s car and pauses, looking up at the second floor windows. They seem darker than they should be, like the bright autumn sun can’t penetrate the glass to illuminate what secrets hide within. 

Then, Kylo shuts the car door and reminds himself that the strange phenomenon is  _ him _ , not the house. 

Behind them is a chorus of car doors opening and shutting, and Kylo turns his head to give his family a wan smile. He can see them all examining the house with the same sort of trepidation that Kylo felt. With the exception of Luke. Luke’s gaze is on Kylo, and he offers an encouraging nod in return. 

Even though he pays rent here, Kylo waits for Hux to be the first to open the door, though he stands beside him rather than behind. Just in case. Both of them inch cautiously inside, Kylo’s family trailing behind through the foyer, and Kylo lets out a shaky breath when he turns the corner into the kitchen and sees that nothing is out of place. The house looks no different than it had the first time he’d been here. 

He and Hux are holding hands, tightly, so much so it’s almost uncomfortable, but neither of them make a move to let go. 

Kylo flinches when Luke puts a hand on his shoulder from behind, and Luke squeezes it in reassurance. “This is a good house,” he tells Kylo, slipping past them into the kitchen and laying a bag down on the table. 

Kylo and Hux edge out of the kitchen doorway to let Leia, Rey and Finn pass, but they both are reluctant for the moment to move farther into the house. The outside door stands open, and Kylo suddenly whirls and tugs Hux along to shut it, before something else does it for them. He locks it, for good measure.

Hux is immediately thankful for the sheer number of people inside. Even with another presence there --  _ he can feel it  _ \-- it feels less daunting. “Thank you all for coming,” Hux says, leading them into the living room. 

With all the windows open, curtains pulled aside, it feels dark everywhere Hux looks. It is a good house, as Luke had pointed out, with good bones and a good history, but now it is more of a dead shell with something residing inside -- a place for something to inhabit, even if that something happens to be following Kylo Ren. It has made this place its home for a good amount of time, and it shows in every corner, in every shadow. 

They pull in some chairs from the kitchen so that they can all sit in a circle. Hux chooses a strategic place on the couch, with his back to the wall, and tugs Kylo down next to him -- he doesn’t like the idea of something sneaking up behind either of them. He knows it’s likely to happen to Kylo, and less so to Luke or Rey. He thinks nothing is dumb enough to sneak up behind Leia.

Luke leaves an empty chair between Leia and Kylo. “For Han,” he says. 

Kylo stares at the chair Luke sets out for Han, waiting for something, though he doesn’t know what. For it to move? Glow? Be thrown across the room? When nothing happens, he turns his gaze back to Luke. 

“So, what happens now? Do we ...what?” he asks. 

Luke settles into the chair closest to Kylo, opening his bag. He withdraws a small green bowl and a bag filled with something that looks like ash. He upends the bag into the bowl and a small plume of the substance rises into the air, sparkling on the dim sunlight that streams through the windows. Luke sets the bowl in the center of the circle, on the rug between them all, and Rey adds three sticks of incense from the box she brought along. 

“Got a light, cuz?” she asks, raising a brow at Kylo.

Kylo pats his pocket, but doesn’t have one, as he only smoked when he was drunk, and even then, bummed them. But Hux has one in the end-table drawer, for candles, and pulls it out, leaning over to hand it to Rey.

With careful hands, Rey takes the lighter and lights the incense. Hux isn’t sure what scent exactly it is, but it smells light and it puts him at ease. When she settles back into her chair, they all join hands at Luke’s word. Kylo and Leia, empty chair in between them, pause for a moment before Luke holds his hand out in front of him, palm open. Kylo sets his hand on the chair and Leia places hers in his, palm still open -- inviting, for Han. Leaving a space for him. 

“Is everyone ready,” Luke asks. Hux swallows and nods along with the chorus of agreement, feeling adrenaline building at the same time as the oppressive atmosphere in the room ramps up. Whatever is here knows that they are all here -- the will not be taking it by surprise. Even still, Hux isn’t worried. 

He does hold Kylo’s hand tightly, though.

“I will need everyone to be absolutely certain,” Luke says. “You cannot waver in your conviction. You must believe, with your heart and soul, that you belong here and this thing does not.”

There is a succession of nods; only Finn looks dubious, this moment being, likely, his first foray into the strange world of the Skywalkers. Luke’s expression is stern as he glances between each of them, but at last he, too, nods, and lets his eyes fall shut. Around the circle, everyone follows suit as though by some silent command. 

There is a long moment of silence, and Kylo has just opened one eye again to check on Luke when his uncle speaks. 

“I am addressing the being who has attached itself to this household.” He pauses, and nothing happens. Kylo feels himself begin to deflate, feeling silly, but then there is a low, ominous growl, nearly imperceptible, and the bottoms of the curtains stir, fanning out over the floor before going still. The room is quiet again. 

Luke goes on. “You are unwelcome here.” His voice is resolute, betraying no fear, or other emotion. He is stating a fact.

Rey speaks after him. “This is not your house,” she says, her voice ringing clear and loud throughout the room. Hux thinks he hears the rush of wind, of an opening door, the creak of the foundation settling. It sends goosebumps down his spine. “Leave. You are unwelcome,” she says. It is only a few words, but the conviction behind it makes it sound like a speech.

Hux swallows. Before he can say anything, he hears Leia. “You are not welcome.” Stern and demanding, like a mother. It would be a fool to not obey. “Get out. Leave my family alone.” Warmth fills Hux’s chest at being included in this, but that is for him to dwell on later -- not now.

Kylo feels Leia squeeze his hand, and he glances at her. His heart feels unnaturally loud in his ears, the incense sweetly cloying in his nostrils and tickling the back of his throat. It makes his voice dry as he speaks, nervous at center stage and blurting the first thing to comes to mind. “This is  _ our _ house.” 

A door slams upstairs. Hux’s hand clenches, tight and damp in Kylo’s, and Kylo’s shoulders flinch. Leia doesn’t, where she still holds onto Kylo’s fingers. 

Footsteps echo through the ceiling, slow, dragging steps growing in volume as they move down the hall, tiny bits of plaster dust shaking loose from the ceiling and drifting down over them as the steps reach the center of the room. Everyone looks up, eyes open, except Luke and Leia. Finn has gone an unhealthy color. Kylo is holding his breath, waiting for something to erupt through the ceiling.

Before anything else can happen, Hux hears Finn speak. Despite the clench to his jaw, his voice sounds steady: “Get out of this house.” He is unwavering, pulling courage from deep within himself.

Hux uses that, riding on the coattails of it, speaking only a moment after. It is easy to find the vicious courage inside him -- he is  _ angry _ and he is frustrated and he is vehement. “Get out of my house,” he says, voice raised over what is now a loud rattling of pretty much anything in his house that can shake. Footsteps stomp along the floor and the ceiling, glasses clink and clatter in their cabinets. Wind howls through the hallways, whistling at the windows. “You are not welcome in my home,” he continues. “Get  _ out _ .” 

As soon as the last syllable falls, the entire couch shifts back, slams into the wall, and Kylo loses hold of his mother’s hand as fear makes his throat tight. He jerks forward, scrabbling for her hand across the chair, but then the wall behind them vibrates, as though some huge fist is pounding at it, and the pounding echoes in Kylo’s skull, making him nauseous, making his teeth rattle in his head. 

Something feels  _ wrong _ . In a way it’s never felt before. Like they’ve crossed a line. Like maybe this really  _ isn’t _ their house. And then -- nothing.

When Hux looks over at Kylo, the man’s shoulders are slumped and his posture unfamiliar. Hux freezes.  _ Fuck _ , he thinks.  _ Please no _ , he hopes beyond hope -- but then Kylo takes a deep and rattling breath -- and Hux  _ knows _ .

He knows that he is no longer sitting next to Kylo. Knows that this is not the person he cares for. Hux also knows that he is still holding Kylo’s hand. It feels cold in Hux’s own, but his grip is tight and unrelenting. It reminds Hux, very vividly, of the thing that grabbed his leg. 

Kylo gurgles, deep in his throat. It sounds absolutely inhuman. 

Hux hears Luke and Rey take steadying breaths on the other side of the room, regaining their calm. “You,” Luke says, speaking at Kylo’s body, at the thing inside him. “You are not welcome here. You are not welcome in that body.”

Kylo laughs. When he looks up, hair in his face, his eyes are pitch black. He grins with all his teeth, and Hux’s stomach drops. He fights the waves of nausea that crash into him and, thank god, wins. “Get the fuck out of him,” Hux says, spitting fiery vitriol. His own grip on Kylo’s hand is firm and aggressive. “Get  _ out _ .”

The thing that had been Kylo Ren -- Ben Solo -- turns its face to Hux, and there is nothing of the man that Hux has grown to care for in that gaze. The  _ thing _ looking out at him is ancient, angry. “Ben Solo is  _ mine _ ,” it says, and the voice is only barely recognizable, shaped by Kylo’s throat but bearing none of his warmth.

Leia lurches from her chair with such vehemence that it topples backward and clatters to the ground. “By God he is not,” she shouts, small fists curled at her side. She takes a stride forward, but Kylo’s body whirls on her, snatching his hand from Hux’s grip and pointing it at Leia, palm out. There is a deep  _ whomp _ that reverberates through the air like atmosphere sucked from a vacuum, and Leia flies backward. Finn is on his knees lightning fast, catching her, and they both fall to the floor. Luke and Rey are both on their feet in an instant.

Hux knows that he should move away from Kylo. Everything about the man is now threatening, ominous and terrifying. He should move. Instinct screams at him, loud and terrible in his head -- but he cannot. Hux cannot abandon him.

“Kylo,” Hux says. He heeds Luke’s word and tries to keep the conviction in his voice. He summons strength from places he didn’t know he had and tries to hold onto it with every ounce of strength he can find. “Kylo, please. I know you can hear me.”

Hux reaches out with a shaky hand. He brings it to Kylo’s face, cupping it even as those cold eyes glare at him. His fingers smooth over the skin of Kylo’s scar. “Kylo, you have to fight it.” He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, how to reach Kylo. “Follow my voice, Kylo. We all need you here -- you have to come back.  _ Please _ .” Hux needs him. Kylo’s family needs him. 

When Kylo’s body snarls at him, Hux firmly grabs onto the back of his neck with his other hand, hooking himself onto Kylo’s body. “Kylo come back, please. Fight it. You’re stronger than it is, I know it. You’re  _ better _ .”

Hux smooths his fingers over that striking scar. “Please.” Kylo’s body flinches

_ Fear permeates Kylo’s bones, and he feels tendrils of ice seep into his veins, and suddenly he can’t feel Hux’s hand on his anymore, and he turns, seeking him desperately, only to find himself alone. He whirls, seeing all the chairs around him empty. Outside the window is nothing but inky dark, the impression of roiling fog.  _

_ He tries to scream.  _

_ \-- Throat doesn’t work.  _

_ Slowly, he pushes himself off the couch, feeling that his heart should be hammering with anxiety, but only sensing it beating thickly in his chest, sluggishly. His breathing comes slowly, like the air is too thick, and his footsteps toward the door are like wading through a swamp. After what seems an eternity, he reaches the door, grasps the handle, and turns. _

_ The door opens slowly, as though the wood is shifting through water, and it feels too heavy. Kylo thinks he hears something, a distant voice maybe, calling his name from beyond the veil of fog, and it feels right that he should move beyond the door. _

_ And yet as it yawns open, there is a figure there, blocking his way.  _

“Dad?”  _ Kylo hears the echo of his surprise, feels that seeing Han should be strange, but he can’t quite remember why.  _

“Hi kid,”  _ Han says, and Kylo thinks he sounds sad, for some reason.  _

“What are you doing here?”  _ Kylo asks, trying to peer around him, but there is nothing but the mist.  _

_ Han smiles, that same familiar, crooked smile he’sd always worn, and it makes Kylo’s chest ache. Like it’s been a long time since he’s seen that smile.  _ “It’s not your time, kid,” Han says. “You have to go back.”  _ Han’s eyes flick over Kylo’s shoulder, prompting Kylo to turn _ . 

_ Shock courses through him to see another version of himself, seated on the couch he’d only just vacated. Hux is there beside him - beautiful, perfect Hux, who he loves - with his hand on Kylo’s face. Hux is speaking, but Kylo can’t hear what he’s saying.  _

_ Kylo turns back to Han, confused, afraid.  _ “Dad? What’s happening?” 

_ Han searches his eyes, his gaze more serious than Kylo remembers it ever being.  _ “You let the darkness get too close, Ben. Your mother and I always worried about that. But you can beat it.”  _ Han lifts his hand, reaching up to touch Kylo’s cheek. He thumbs gently over the scar there, and suddenly Kylo remembers. All of it. The headlights rushing toward them, the screaming of tires, the blackness, the sirens, how he’d sobbed himself to sleep that night, alone in his hospital bed. How he’d never seen Han again.  _

_ Until now. _

_ Kylo’s hand flies to cover Han’s where it rests against his face. “ _ Dad, you…”  _ he tries, but his voice is too thick. _

_ Han shakes his head.  _ “I’ve always been here, kid. I always will be. But you have to go back.”  _ Han’s fingers press into his skin, a parting gesture, and then he takes his hand away. Kylo lurches forward as Han steps back, snatches at Han’s hand.  _

“Let go, Ben,”  _ Han tells him, words gentle.  _

“But Dad, I…”  _ Kylo tries, but Han interrupts him. Only this time, when he speaks, the voice isn’t Han, it’s Hux, saying:  _

“Let him go.” 

Han, the door, the mist -- everything vanishes, and Kylo slumps forward as though all the strings holding him up have been cut.

Hux is there to catch him. It’s instantaneous, really. One moment Hux was looking at the thing in Kylo’s body, the next he was watching Kylo’s surprised eyes take in his surroundings before he collapsed. “Kylo,” Hux whispers into that tangled, familiar hair. He rubs a soothing hand down Kylo’s back. “I knew you could do it, I knew you would come back to us -- to me.” Before Hux can press more than one kiss to the top of Kylo’s head, Luke is speaking.

“Whatever it is, it’s still here,” he warns. 

They regroup. Hux helps Kylo sit up and lean against him, and they all rejoin hands, creating a smaller, tighter circle. 

“ **_Get out_ ** !” Luke shouts. The loud fury nearly startles Hux, but he steels himself. The instant shattering of the living room window, however, does startle him. It’s so loud, so close. Glass flies throughout the entire room.

But it does not stop them.

“Get out!” Leia echoes her brother. Another window shatters in response. The kitchen, maybe.

They all join in, screaming at the top of their lungs. Hux hears, with both delight and dismay, the shattering of what must be every single window in his entire house.

A sound builds like the roar of a train, some great rumbling engine that shakes the floor, making the furniture rattle. The lamp on the end table tilts, falls to the floor. Footsteps echo through the house again, but away from them this time, and the low, growling sound shifts to a shriek that fades in and out until suddenly the front door slams open, banging against the wall behind it. 

Kylo knows he locked that door. 

Then -- there is a wind that rushes through the entire house, gusting with hurricane strength down the stairs and across the living room. It blows through Kylo’s hair, tossing it across his eyes, and he pushes it away. Broken glass shivers and clatters across the floor, the chairs in the kitchen are tossed back. All the while it sounds as though the unearthly wail is getting farther and farther away, until finally, it disappears toward the front of the house. 

They sit in heavy silence, Kylo clinging to Hux so tightly the bones of his hand seem to grind together. He starts to let out a breath, to speak.

The front door slams shut. 

On the floor, the lamp flickers and comes on, buzzing with electricity.

_ Oh _ , Hux thinks, as the room floods with light through the now-broken window.  _ It’s still daytime _ . Somehow, he had forgotten. The room had been so dark, the atmosphere so dim. He swallows and hazards a breath, pulling himself back from Kylo to look carefully at Luke. It appears as if all eyes are on him. 

Luke is quiet for a moment. Then, he nods.

“It’s gone.”

 

* * *

 

The last of the glass trickles from the dustpan into the waste-bin they’d set in the middle of the living room. Every light in the house is on, and it’s comforting. More comforting is the fact that everyone has stayed, even hours after the last of the phenomena had occurred. Luke and Finn are taping a sheet of plastic over the final broken window to keep the chill November air at bay. 

Kylo glances up and catches Leia’s eye, and she gives him a warm smile. She’s putting the last of the tea cups in the dishwasher as Hux comes down the stairs with an armful of blankets. He has a phone nestled between his shoulder and his ear, and is murmuring quickly into the receiver. There seems to have been some unspoken consensus that Kylo’s family would not let them stay in the house alone tonight. 

Hux hands the blankets off to Rey, who has been walking through the entire house with burning sage.  _ Just in case _ , she had smiled. At this point, Hux won’t argue with anything, even though he now feels truly safe. It’s just an added layer of protection.

“ _ Yes _ , I want  _ Energy Star-qualified _ windows,” Hux sighs as he steps into Kylo’s shadow, running careful fingers down his back as a  _ hello _ . “Double-hung, yes. I’ve already said. -- Look -- as soon as humanly possible please, it’s an emergency.” Hux sighs, his unoccupied fist clenching. “Yes, I will hold.”

He tips the phone away from his ear and smiles when Kylo stands and pecks him on the cheek. “It’s looking great down here,” Hux whispers away from the phone. “Thank you so much,” he says in Leia’s direction. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.” It’s heartfelt, sincere. Everything feels  _ right _ now. Even with all of his windows broken, even with many of his possessions in pieces. 

Hux takes a breath, “Yes, I’m here. Tomorrow? Yes, that would be perfect --” And with that, he’s off again, moving into another room to survey the damage there and finalize whatever arrangements are needed to replace every single window in the house.

Kylo watches him go, an ache tugging at his chest, like there isn’t enough room for what he feels. He smiles as Hux stops in his pacing to push a kitchen chair a little closer to the table, lining it up with the others before disappearing into the foyer. It still feels like he’s dreaming, like he might wake up in that hospital bed, muddled from the car accident, and find this is all a trauma induced delusion, an escape from his pain. 

He startles when Leia’s hand touches his, gently prying the dustpan from his grip; he hadn’t even seen her approach. She lifts her hand and cards through his hair, two fingers tugging on his earlobe like she’d done when he was a kid. 

“You should go get some rest, sweetheart,” she tells him. “Luke and I will stay up.” 

Kylo’s forehead wrinkles, and he starts to say  _ you don’t have to stay _ , but he wants her to. “Are you sure?” Even he hears how tired he sounds. Like all the exhaustion he’d ignored in his soul for months, and not just the last one, has finally caught up with him. Now that it might, just  _ might _ , be okay to finally sleep. 

Leia pats his cheek. “I’m sure. Go.” 

Kylo sighs, wraps his arms around Leia, and pulls her close. She allows herself to nestle against his chest for a long moment, before she straightens and picks the trashcan up from the floor. She is carrying it into the kitchen before Kylo thinks of anything more to say. 

The bed in Kylo’s old room - which seems to have been his a decade before - is made up with fresh sheets for Finn and Rey. The couch is made up for Leia and Luke had insisted on taking a chair nearby -- with no plans of sleeping for the night, just keeping watch. Everyone bids long goodnights before Hux and Kylo finally shuffle into their bedroom. It’s the middle of the afternoon, but it feels like midnight. 

Hux feels like he could sleep for forever.

“Come here,” he says, after Kylo pushes the door closed behind him. “Come here.” It feels like they are living in an entirely new house, an entirely new world. The room doesn’t even feel as cold as it should without a pane of glass separating them from November air. Kylo takes Hux’s outstretched hand and lets himself laugh when Hux pulls them both down onto the bed.

“I think we deserve about a week’s worth of sleep,” Hux says, pushing his face against Kylo’s hair, then pulling back to plant kisses on his cheek. “How about you?” He doesn’t say ‘ _ I’m so glad you’re back _ ,’ but he thinks the words as he tightens his grip on Kylo’s shirt, as he refuses to let go.

Kylo buries his face in Hux’s neck, smiling against the warm skin before pressing a kiss to his pulse point. “I love you,” he murmurs, because he’s tired, and because there’s an echo of a memory that says  _ there might not always be time _ . To say what he feels. “Thank you. For everything.”

Hux huffs out a surprised breath. He pulls back, just so he can get a good look at Kylo’s face, at those dark, expressive eyes, at that curl of a mouth. At that beautiful scar. Hux leans in and presses a long kiss to Kylo’s lips before he breathes out a laugh -- feeling relieved, feeling elated, feeling alive. “I love you too,” Hux finds himself saying. The words come easier than he thought they ever would. They feel  _ right _ . 

It’s the truth, and it feels perfect.

“But,” Hux says, threading his fingers through Kylo’s hair. “I would like to go to sleep. For forever, perhaps. So I vote that we revisit this in the morning.” Always practical. “Because I would like to kiss you for hours, but I fear I might just fall asleep on you.”

Kylo laughs, chasing Hux’s lips for just a bit more contact, before whispering “We have time.” And he believes it.

 

* * *

 

**epilogue**

**Halloween, one year later**

 

Snow has come earlier this year than any in Kylo’s recent memory. Fat white flakes drift down from the leaden gray sky, the atmosphere windless, the bare branches of the trees in the front yard still, calm. There’s the smell of fresh popcorn and butter, an autumn scented candle Rey had brought over, and the television is playing Beetlejuice, which is decidedly not frightening. They’d agreed their Halloween tradition going forward was that nothing scary would happen on Halloween, ever again.

Hux shifts under the blanket next to Kylo, where they are both curled up on the couch. He plucks a few bits of popcorn from the bowl on Kylo’s lap. Kylo follows suit and then makes a face. “What is on this?”

“Paprika,” Hux says, taking a few more kernels. “And parsley.”

“I think that’s against movie night rules. It’s supposed to be movie theatre popcorn.”

“Says who?” Hux says, grinning as Kylo steals a kiss instead of arguing. “You get to make the next batch however you like.”

The movie is perfect -- just the right speed for both of them for such a monumental night. There’s not as much tension in the air as Hux might have thought, but he cannot forget that last year’s Halloween was practically the start of their whole ordeal. Even though it’s been over for over a year, it occasionally feels like a fresh wound. 

But now, as the first doorbell chime rings through the house, Hux cannot bring himself to feel apprehensive at all. He pauses the movie and pulls Kylo up, shedding the blanket. “Come on, let’s both answer it.”

Kylo feels a bit of apprehension as they walk hand in hand toward the door, unable to shake the sense that this is a moment of truth. A test of the seemingly peaceful life they’ve led over the last year. He tenses as Hux twists the doorknob, pulls open the door, and finds…

... two kids, dressed as a werewolf and a classic ghost: a sheet, with two blue eyes peering out. They hold up their plastic buckets, and Kylo exhales a sigh of relief as he smiles and compliments their costumes, bestowing a far larger double handful of candy on them then probably necessary. He receives only a fond smile from Hux, as though he understands. 

He does.

There are a few more trick-or-treaters as the night goes on, but no empty doorsteps. When night falls, and the ring of the bell tapers off until it finally stops, the early winter chill starts to set in. Rather than turn up the heat, Kylo heads out back to gather some wood for a fire, looking forward to sharing that bottle of red wine with Hux. 

He’s lost in thought as he walks, boots untied, toward the shed where the fresh firewood lies under a tarp. He’s considering Rey and Finn’s wedding in the spring, and how Rey has asked him to be her best man. It’s unorthodox, but planning the most inappropriate party he can imagine with Hux has kept them awake with laughter late into the nights often over the last month. They have a family dinner every Sunday now at his mother’s house, and one of their new traditions is that someone in the family relates a good memory about a loved one. Anyone. Just to get the words out, and make sure they are heard. 

Kylo is thinking about the last thing he shared as he gathers a few cut logs into his arms, flakes of snow settling on his eyelashes, his nose. Kylo had been eight, in this memory, and lying beneath Han’s car, the same one in the driveway now, and Han had been showing him how to change the oil. Telling him what every part did. Calling the car  _ The Falcon _ , after that stupid movie he liked so much, and telling him that one day it would be Ben’s.

Kylo is smiling at the memory as he nudges the tarp back in place. He turns, mind shifting to the pleasant appeal of snuggling back into Hux’s embrace on the couch, a warm fire crackling in the hearth. 

He freezes, chest clenching. 

There, alongside his footprints in the snow, is another set. Matching his, stride for stride. 

There is no fear in his heart, this time. Kylo smiles, hugging the firewood close. He turns his face up into the snow for a moment, feeling hot tears in the corners of his eyes. 

Looking down again, both sets of footprints have nearly disappeared into the white landscape, but Kylo knows his father is still with him. 

“Happy Halloween, Dad,” he whispers, and walks back to the house. Back to Hux. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are so appreciated and valued! <3 
> 
> Come find us on Tumblr if you are so inclined: [kyluxtrashcompactor](http://kyluxtrashcompactor.tumblr.com) and [brawlite](http://brawlite.tumblr.com).


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